


In This Time And Another

by the_wolfling3491



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abortion, Age Regression/De-Aging, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Dumbledore Bashing, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Miscarriage, Pregnancy, Romance, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:42:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 37
Words: 148,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22091665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_wolfling3491/pseuds/the_wolfling3491
Summary: Hermione Granger is starting her first year at Hogwarts, for the second time. How will the staff fare as they teach the woman they consider family and friend, as a child again? How will Miss Granger manage her school years? And will confined memories stay confined? (HG/SS)
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Severus Snape, Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 204
Kudos: 248





	1. The Time Has Come

**Author's Note:**

> This is an ongoing piece. I have several chapters written that I will get posted, and trying to work on continuing the story, so my updates may get longer in between.

"The de-aging potion is the only option," Dumbledore sighed. "You were meant for this time and you need to live it."

"And my memories?" She asked.

"Locked away until your twenty-first year in this time," he responded. "It would be very confusing for an eleven-year-old you to have a lifetime of experiences and memories."

She tightly squeezed the hand of the tall, dark man standing next to her. He had been stiff and silent throughout the entire discussion. Until now.

"And what will happen when she turns twenty-one and a lifetime of memories all come rushing back?" He asked, an undercurrent of venom in his normally silky-smooth tone.

"At that age, she should be well equipped to deal with the change, but either way, we will be there to help her," Dumbledore assured him. After a brief pause, he continued, “I know this is difficult, but she was never meant to live the life she has up until now. She was meant for this time and we must not change that."

She nodded knowingly and the man next to her wilted.

"I'll give you two a few minutes before we begin," Dumbledore announced.

With an understanding in his twinkling bright blue eyes, the Headmaster quietly stepped through the door at the back of his office.

When the door had closed, she turned into him, easily falling into his embrace.

"I'm sorry," she pleaded with him, "I never meant for this to happen."

"We knew that this was a possibility after he explained your little jump through time all those years ago," he acknowledged with a deep sigh.

She nods quietly, not having the heart to tell him that she'd known it was going to happen since the beginning of the Summer.

"Ten years is a long time," she complained.

"I know."

"Will you still love me?" She asked, sweet and loving honey colored eyes peering up into his endless black orbs.

Wrapping her even more tightly in his embrace, he laid his head softly atop hers.

"Always," he promised.

Neither knew how long they had been standing in the comfort of the other's embrace before the Headmaster softly cleared his throat, signaling his return. Reluctantly, they broke apart, turning to face the man.

"This potion will turn you back to age eleven," he said, offering her the vial. "Then I will go into your mind and lock away all of the memories from the moment you fell out of this time."

"No," the dark man responded sharply. "If anyone is going to go messing around in her mind, it will be me."

The Headmaster sighed, but agreed, “Alright my boy, but nothing of this first life must remain. All memories and emotions must be locked away for now."

She accepted the vial, uncorking and downing the contents before she could lose her nerve. Nothing happened immediately, then slowly she started to change. She shrank in height, her curves disappeared, and her face softened with a sense of innocence.

Within agonizing moments, where a grown woman had stood, was the young girl the dark man recognized from so very many years ago. However, her eyes remained the same, filled with experiences. She turned them on him once more, a deep sadness and hints of tears filling the brims of her eyes. Grabbing his hand, she slowly pulled a now too big ring off her left hand, and placed it in his palm.

"Do it now," she begged. "Please Severus."

Without a word, he dove into her mind. He watched as snippets of their life together over the last twenty years zipped by. He gathered those memories meticulously, creating a door in her mind and locking them away tightly. Until the right time. With regret, he pulled himself from the comfort of her mind. Looking deep into her eyes, he knew that he had been successful, as they are the innocent eyes of a child that hasn't known the horrors of the world.

She blinked rapidly and swayed, the world spinning around her. Severus Snape quickly reached out a hand to steady her, guiding her gently to one of the soft winged backed chairs in the Headmaster's office.

"Careful Miss Granger," he bit out, the words falling bitterly from his lips.

"Thank you, sir, I'm not sure what happened. How did I get here?" She asked, turning away to face the Headmaster, who sat neatly behind his large desk.

"Some students experience a surge of magic the first time they are surrounded by magical beings Miss Granger," Dumbledore lied easily. "It's rare, but happened when you stepped onto the platform at King's Cross. One of the platform chaperones noticed you collapse and brought you to Hogwarts straight away."

"Oh," she answered, cringing at her silliness. "I'm so sorry to have caused problems."

"No problem at all dear," the Headmaster assured her. "Professor Snape here had just given you a mild calming draught, so hopefully you won't have any more episodes tonight as your magic adjusts."

_Well, that explains the potion vial in her hand_, she thought. Turning her eyes on the tall, dark professor, dressed from head to toe in black, she smiled.

"Thank you for your assistance Professor Snape."

For a brief moment, he is lost in her smile, the same smile of the woman he remembered, not the girl. Breaking himself out of the memory, he glared at her before turning and departing abruptly, his teaching robes billowing out behind him.

"You'll have to forgive Professor Snape, my dear," Dumbledore said at her hurt and confused look. "He tends to be a little grumpy right before the students arrive."

And just like that, Dumbledore brushed twenty years of history under the rug, treating little Hermione Granger as nothing more than a pawn in his bigger picture.

A knock at the door preceded the tall, stern witch as she swept into the office.

"Albus, what is wrong with Severus," she exclaimed, "I haven't seen him this worked up in quite a while."

It was only then that she noticed the young bushy haired girl sitting in one of the guest chairs. Briefly, she thought she had lost her mind. Memories of a similarly lost looking eleven-year-old girl overlap in her mind‘s eye. A shocked gasp tears from her lips.

"Professor McGonagall, I'd like you to meet Miss Hermione Granger. She had a little incident at the train station, but she's doing fine and is ready to be sorted with the other first years. Would you mind taking her down to the others?" Dumbledore said, making strong eye contact, a warning in his gaze.

Blinking back tears, the Deputy Headmistress nodded, "Of course Headmaster. Come along Miss Granger, we'll get you back to your classmates."

Without waiting, McGonagall left the office, expecting the young woman to follow her. As discreetly as possible, Minerva wiped the tears forming in her eyes. She isn't sure what Dumbledore has done this time, but he will be answering her questions very soon.

_______________________________

The brief hesitation from the Deputy Headmistress during the sorting ceremony goes unnoticed by everyone except the staff, many of which eyed her curiously since she had been doing the sorting for years and had never faltered.

But falter she does before calling out, "Hermione Granger."

The staff struggle to stifle their gasps of surprise, but obviously had failed judging by the frown crossing Dumbledore's face briefly. The matter is further compounded by the collective silence of the students in the Great Hall. With an intense look of confusion across her brow, the tiny, bushy haired girl stepped up for her sorting.

Hermione sat upon the stool in front of the student body, and the sorting hat was gently placed on her head. The staff looks on in anticipation, even scowling Professor Snape who has been avoiding looking at the students at all costs, turned to watch.

"Hmmm, such a young age, but such a long life," the Sorting Hat muttered only for her to hear, causing Hermione to stare up at it quizzically. "Such knowledge and a drive to learn, but there is a fierceness and determination in you that is unmatched. Yes, that is where you belong."

"Gryffindor!" The hat shouted for all to hear.

Despite the shock, Professor McGonagall beamed proudly while the staff clap with unmatched enthusiasm. Snape sadly nods his head before turning away again.

If anything seemed off to the students, they don't show it. The Gryffindors welcomed their newest member and the sorting went on. Hermione Granger is shoved into the background of all their minds when one Harry Potter is called to be sorted.

_______________________________

Dumbledore called most of the staff for a meeting after the Start-of-Term Feast, the new professors Quirrell and Babbling being the exception. The staff room was filled, with concerned and heated discussions taking place. Only Dumbledore was still missing.

One, Severus Snape, sat in a dark corner, silently, fiddling with a small silver ring in his hands. His dark mood an easily read sign, warning the others to keep their distance.

Suddenly, the flames within the massive stone fireplace turn green and out popped Molly Weasley, followed by her husband, Arthur. They enter the fray, approaching Minerva McGonagall quickly to ask why they've been summoned for the first time in years. One by one, several others stubble out of the floo, all members of the Order of the Phoenix. They gathered around the table, listening to the whispers and searching for information.

As if summoned by the last arrival, Dumbledore walked into the staff room. With a quick flick of his wand, a parade of chairs floated in from the back door and settled around the table.

"Please be seated everyone," the Headmaster requests.

"Is it true," Molly Weasley demanded, before Dumbledore could get another word out.

All eyes turn expectantly to the Headmaster.

"Yes, it is. Hermione has been de-aged back to her eleven-year-old self, with her memories locked away,” Dumbledore explained.

The commotion that follows is too frenzied to be brought to bay quickly. The assembled group mutter things like 'poor girl', 'how could he', and 'what about poor Severus'.

_Poor Severus indeed_, Snape thinks angrily.

With that, he tightened his fist around the ring in his hand before launching himself out of his chair. The room is silenced instantly as the door slams shut behind him.

"We all knew that this day would come. Hermione was always meant for this timeline. This is why we maintained her cover as Hermione McGonagall for so many years both during school and her position here at Hogwarts, teaching Ancient Runes," Dumbledore explained, gaining the groups attention despite the dark mood and abrupt departure of the Potion Master.

"Hermione Snape," Professor McGonagall snapped roughly. "Though I was proud to claim her as my own, that was her name."

The occupants of the room turned toward Minerva in surprise, never having heard her take that tone with Albus.

"My poor girl was happy with her life. Married to a man she loved with a job she adored and you took that away from her. For what? Your blasted greater good. We are at peace! How do you know the world wouldn't just keep going if she had stayed the way she was?" McGonagall growled.

Several of the people in the room nod in agreement.

"Things had to be put back to right," Dumbledore insisted, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Miss Granger was destined to grow up in this time and it is of vital importance that she does so. We all know that this peace will not last. Voldemort is gone for now, but not for good."

Many shudder at the name. No one speaks up against him again, but many still shake their heads, scowls on their faces.

"Now, Molly, she will need a home. Her parents never had a daughter in this timeline, so we will need to break the news to her soon. Your youngest boy and Mr. Potter already seem to be fast friends, so we need to place her with them," the old wizard insisted.

Minerva gave a strangled cry, but remained silent. Molly gripped her hand firmly before responding to Dumbledore.

"Wouldn't she be better off with Minerva again?"

"No," he answered firmly, "she will stay with you. The Order will cover the costs of an additional child. It is vital that she be with Harry."

The discussion was mostly done at that point, but arguments continued with concern for how to discuss her parents with the girl. Questions as to why she must be associated with Mr. Potter were asked. Dumbledore insisted that he will take care of it and left without another word. The staff and Order members argued the points some more before giving it up as a lost cause and heading to their respective homes. Molly gently pulled Minerva into a hug before following her husband through the floo.

Minerva McGonagall left the staff room and headed away from her rooms, making her way down to the dungeons. After winding through the corridors, she arrived at a heavy wooden door wrapped with iron bands, with a heavy iron knocker in the shape of a wolf's head. She lifted the iron ring of the knocker, bringing it sharply down to the door twice.

She waited quietly in the corridor for a moment before the wolf opens his mouth.

  
It growls at her, "He won't see you."

She sighed deeply before turning and making her way back to chambers, to make ready for what is likely to be a long, sleepless night.

_______________________________

Inside his chambers, Severus sat in his chair by the fire, a bottle of fire whiskey dangling from the fingers of one hand. The other hand continued to fiddle with the simple wedding band. The silver of the band caught the fire light and he stares at the two small stones, an emerald and a ruby set side by side.

He scowled down at the ring in his hands. He wants to throw it into the fire and be done with it, but his hand has stilled every time he tried. The only thing keeping him from doing it is knowing she will remember eventually. Disgusted with himself, he tucked the ring in the left breast pocket of his frock coat.

When he'd returned to his rooms, he had noticed immediately that things were different. The little knickknacks, that she had littered the fireplace mantle with, had disappeared. Her section of the bookshelf was empty and desk had been cleaned out. The sweater that was always draped across the back of his chair, which he'd then toss across the back of the couch, was nowhere to be found. He didn't have to check the bedroom to know that her belongings were gone from there as well.

She had known what was going to happen and had prepared for it. She had made sure her things were cleared out and tucked away, so he wouldn't have to face the daily reminder of what he had lost. She has been thinking of him, but all he could see was that she had kept it from him. He was furious that she had known for sure that their time was limited and had let him go on believing that they'd had all the time in the world.

In his rage, he had trashed the place. He had broken her chair across the desk, tore down shelves from the bookcase, shattered all the glassware in the kitchenette with a burst of wayward magic, and put his fist through the glass front of his massive grandfather clock. The only thing spared was his chair and the bar.

It didn't take long before he had downed the entire bottle and passed out cold in his chair. Even though his drunk haze, he couldn't bring himself to make his way to their bed, where he would never forget the feeling of his wife sleeping next to him. Tonight at least, he couldn't bare anymore loss.

_______________________________

High up in Gryffindor tower, Hermione Granger slept among her fellow lions, completely unaware of the tremulous emotions running through the people who she had considered family and friends for the past twenty years. With her memories locked away, this blissful little Gryffindor is excited for the start of term, eager to learn about the magic that in her mind, she had only been introduced to a few months ago.

Little does she, Dumbledore, or even Severus Snape know, that the magic embedded in the memories and emotions that have been locked away, is not quite so willing to remain dormant.


	2. Memories in the Great Hall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I’m trying to reserve what I have written already to post slowly, because depression sucks and sudden and intense bouts of not writing happens, but too excited to share this story. Thanks!

** September 2, 1991 **

On the first day of term, Professor McGonagall sat down to breakfast well before many of the students were even up and about. Beside her, sat the great Albus Dumbledore, presiding over his kingdom. With the sudden reveal the previous evening, she couldn't help but start to feel more and more like a pawn, ruled by his growing sense of paranoia. Even though Voldemort had been gone for many years, Dumbledore still expected him to return to power. Despite her long friendship with the man, she’s not sure if she can forgive him his secrecy, plotting, and manipulating this time.

Just as she is about to speak to the man, Minerva's attention is pulled to the entryway of the Great Hall. A familiar figure with bushy brown hair appeared in the doorway and Minerva McGonagall's mind is drawn back to a different time.

————————

** The Great Hall – September 1, 1971 **

"Who is she Albus?" Professor McGonagall whispered urgently as one of her newest Gryffindors entered the great hall.

"I'm not quite sure," Dumbledore admited jovially. "It is quite the intriguing mystery though isn't it? Her name was not on the list of new students yesterday morning, but had shown up before dinner!"

Minerva had just been named the head of Gryffindor House and Deputy Headmistress two years prior, following the death of Professor Binns, whose ghost still taught History of Magic, but was fine leaving the other tasks to the living.

"I know that! I saw the list myself. Would you be serious for a moment," Minerva insisted. "We need to speak to her, as soon as possible."

"Yes, yes. I am aware," Albus said. "At least let the girl have some breakfast. We can summon her to my office after."

That seemed to settle the witch down a bit, as she returned to her breakfast, though she only picked at it. Her eyes often rose to the Gryffindor table, checking to see if their mystery student had finished yet.

In all her years as a student, and then a teacher, she had never heard of students magically appearing out of thin air. This was a magical world, but some things were still outside of the realm of possibility for Merlin's sake! People don't just appear out of nowhere.

Once the young Miss Granger finished her meal, she pulled a large book from her bag. Giving Dumbledore a stern look, McGonagall pushed away from the table. In her usual, no-nonsense manner, she approached the girl.

"Miss Granger," she addressed her, since her approach had not distracted the girl from the book in front of her. When the child looked up, McGonagall continued, "would you please follow me? The Headmaster and I would like to speak with you."

With that, she turned on heel to exit the great hall, leaving a scared and concerned Hermione Granger to follow in her wake. They quickly approach the gargoyle, Hermione practically running to keep up with her head of house.

"Marshmallow," the Professor announced to the stone creature, rolling her eyes at the continued absurdity of the Headmaster's passwords.

Hermione's eyes widened as the gargoyle jumped aside, revealing a staircase leading up. McGonagall gestured for the girl to step onto the stairs before following after her. As the stairs start moving, Hermione jumped slightly, grasping her Professor's arm to steady herself. Blushing wildly, she quietly apologized, though Minerva assured her that it was fine.

Soon, they reach the top of the stairs, the Headmaster's door open and waiting for them. Hermione timidly entered the room, her eyes widening at all the shiny silver devices whizzing and whirling away on the shelf. Next her eyes are drawn to walls of magical texts, the subtle hum of magic radiating off of them, calling to her. She doesn't even notice the Headmaster's presence until he speaks.

"Have a seat my dear," he offered gently, gesturing to the two padded guest chairs in front of his desk. Once she complied, he offers, "lemon drop?"

Hermione politely declined, not having much of a sweet tooth due to her parent's profession.

"So, my dear, you must be wondering why we have called you here," Dumbledore said. "It seems that we have had a mix up in our new student list."

"No sir," Hermione exclaimed instantly, fear coursing through ever part of her, "please, I promise that I will work really hard to be worthy of acceptance here. I know my parents aren't magical, but I will ..."

_ They can't take this away _ , she thought wildly,  _ this is the first time the world has made sense to me. The first time I feel like I fit. _

"Easy Miss Granger," he offered. "We aren't reconsidering your place here. You are indeed a witch and worthy of your place here, no matter your parentage."

Professor McGonagall glared at the Headmaster before stepping in.

"Dear, we are just curious because you showed up on our lists so suddenly. Did you receive a letter?" McGonagall asked.

"Yes, of course," Hermione asserted, promptly digging into her bookbag and pulling out the neatly folded parchment, offering it to her professor.

The older witch unfolded the letter and finds the familiar words of every letter sent out to new students. She sees her signature across the bottom. However, she paused as her eyes fall upon the date printed in her familiar handwriting, and gasped as the answer to her question dawns on her. She is unable to form the words needed, so she simply passes the letter to Dumbledore.

The old wizard adjusted his half-moon glasses on his nose and quickly scaned the letter, finding the same discrepancy that his colleague had found.

Written in McGonagall's neat handwriting, the letter read,  Term begins 1 September, 1991 .

"Well my dear, we seem to have found the problem. Could you please explain how you happen to have traveled through time?" Dumbledore asked her rather plainly.

"Traveled through time?" Hermione asks, shocked at the implications. Her voice breaks as she answered, "I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean sir."

However, her mind is racing. If she had indeed traveled through time, then, when was she? How exactly did she time travel without knowing or noticing? And how was she going to get back?

"Easy Miss Granger," the Headmaster repeated, having picked up on the thoughts racing through her head, fear plainly written across her face. "We will figure it out."

"Now can you explain what you did yesterday?" Minerva asked kindly, "I know magic is fairly new to you, but did anything seem off?"

"Not that I could tell," Hermione groaned in frustration. "My parents dropped me off at King's Cross. They had an emergent dental surgery to get too and we'd been to the station many times, so they figured I would be fine on my own."

She paused briefly, but both professors nod for her to continue.

"I went through the barrier between platforms 9 and 10, just like the letter I received instructed me. I stumbled a bit going through, but kept my footing. On the train, I sat with two other first years, Lily and Severus. We were all happy to read the entire way here. Nothing out of the ordinary."

"Hmmm, very odd indeed," Albus mused.

"Sir," Hermione inquired quietly, "if it isn't 1991, then what year is it?"

"It is September of 1971," the Headmaster answered gently.

The girl fell back against the chair in shock. McGonagall knelt by her side, gently grasping her hand and making soothing sounds.

"It's going to be alright Miss Granger," she assured the child.

"But how do I get home?"

"I'm afraid child, that it won't be possible. Since we do not know how you got here, we cannot know how to send you back," Dumbledore answered sadly, knowing it is not the answer she is looking for.

Hermione instantly began sobbing, the fear and the tears she had been holding back so far breaking free.

"But what ... about ... my home? And ... my parents?" She sobbed.

Professor McGonagall pulled the girl into her arms, rocking her gently as she cried, in an attempt to help soothe her, but knowing that nothing she can do will help this hurt.

Dumbledore answered the questions that hung in the air as best he could without upsetting her anymore.

"For now, you will stay at Hogwarts. In the meantime, we will work to find a magical family to take you in."

The girl cried even harder, the grief so overwhelming.

"I'll take her," Minerva announced suddenly.

Both student and professor look at her like she'd just sprouted a second head.

"What?" McGonagall asked, before going on to defend herself against Dumbledore's questioning look, "She needs a home and I have one. I have no children or other obligations besides the school. Besides, she unfortunately cannot keep her name. If something were to happen to alter the timeline again it could be dangerous."

Turning her gaze towards the girl in her arms, she tried to explain, "I know this is all new and scary. I know that you barely know me, but I would happy to share my life, my home, and my name with you if you'll have it."

She waited patiently for a response. It is a bold and sudden move. She probably should have considered taking in an eleven-year-old girl at least a little longer before offering, but as she watched the child grieve for the loss of her whole life, there is no other option in her mind.

Hermione peers up, wide eyed and surprised that this woman would offer her so much without a second thought. While the loss of her family and everything she has even known is crushing, it is a relief to have the chance at a new one, just waiting for her to say yes.

"I would like that very much Professor McGonagall," Hermione answered, her voice small and still choked with tears.

"In private, it is Minerva, my dear," the older witch replied. "Now, let us get you down to the hospital wing. You are in no shapes to start classes just yet and any more questions can wait."

The last was directed at Professor Dumbledore, as Minerva stood, her arms still wrapped around the girl, and walked out of the Headmaster's office.

—-————-

Snapping back to the present, tears on the brim of her eyes, Minerva watched as her girl enters the hall. Beside her is Harry Potter of all people, chatting and laughing with the young girl. It seemed that naturally, she has fallen right into line with Albus' plans, but at least for now she seemed happy. The old witch knows that it won't last for long though.

Leaning over to her dining companion, she asked Albus, "Let me tell her that her parents are gone. Even if she doesn't know me, I know her and I know what she needs."

"That is acceptable," the Headmaster responded, "But she will be staying with Molly Weasley. I will not change my mind on that."

There is a harshness to his tone that she had rarely heard, but Minerva just nodded in response as they both watch the Gryffindor table, noticing that one Ronald Weasley has joined the other two first years. The three eat their breakfast while discussing their mutual excitement for the upcoming year. For now, all is well.

——————

Hermione didn’t having any luck getting back to sleep after she had woken early. The entire previous day had been like a dream, arriving at Hogwarts, being sorted, eating all that glorious food, and getting to know some of the other students. She just couldn’t contain her excitement, so she got up and got dressed for the day, in her new uniform. Stepping up to the mirror, she proudly admires the red and gold Gryffindor patch that had appeared on her vest during the night. Taking the stairs two at a time she descends from the girls dormitory.

The common room is still fairly quiet this early in the morning, even on a weekday, but there are a few people scattered around. Two older students sit at a table against the far wall, parchment and books spread out before them, obviously getting a jump of some of their classmates. On the couch by the fire, another first year she recognized sits silently. Having read about him briefly in one of the texts her parents had purchased for her during their trip to Diagon Alley, she’s hesitant to approach the Boy Who Lived, but then reasoned that he is just another person.

"Can't sleep?" she asked, as she approached the couch.

Startled out of his thoughts he looked at her briefly, taking in the halo of hair surrounding her, recognizing her after a moment from the sorting ceremony. 

Pushing his glasses up, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes before he finally responded.

"Yeah, tired, but also kind of wired. I just can't get back to sleep. It's all so new and interesting," he told her. Pausing for a moment, muttering somewhat bitterly, the revelations of the last few days still a sore spot. "Though I guess I'm supposed to know everything as the Boy Who Lived."

"Not really," Hermione assureed him. "I grew up with muggles too. You can't really know what you don't know until you know it."

Harry looked up at her quizzically, trying to puzzle out what she meant.

She took mercy on him and tried again, "It just means you have more to learn. But that's the fun part isn't it? Magic is this new world we fit in to now, even if we didn't fit before. At least it is for me."

"No, I understand," Harry said, smiling widely at her. "I'm excited to get started. Flying, turning people into toads!"

Hermione made a face at that last comment, but she supposes that they all have their bullies and ways to deal with them. Instead of saying anything against it, she offered, "would you like to head down to breakfast? I'm sure they're serving already."

The dark haired boy, who had never really had any friends, smiled and agreed, following Hermione's lead as they descend from Gryffindor Tower. The hallways were eerily empty, but bright as the morning sun shined in. They stop a few times as the stairs shift on them, making their way down. After a few dead ends and wrong turns, they find the great hall again. It's slightly more lively in the hall than anywhere else they'd been that morning, groups of older Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs devouring textbooks and food respectively. A few sleepy Slytherins doze at the far table and a shock of red hair belonging to one Percy Weasley adorns the Gryffindor table.

The duo take a seat on the bench next to the end, discussing the various subjects they are interested in. While Hermione has read each of her required texts, and some recreational reading, several times over, Harry had barely begun to skim the pages. The Dursleys had been diligent about keeping his new possessions locked away for most of the time that he has had them, but he managed to sneak a few peeks. He had been planning on looking at little closer once he was on the train, but getting to know Ron had been a lot more interesting. However, Hermione helpfully filled him in on the basics of several of the courses, sparking his enthusiasm for learning about defending dark magic and transfiguring things. He kept it to himself that potions and herbology sounded rather boring, so as not to affect her interest. Harry repeated what Ron had told him about flying with excitement, though she cringed at the thought.

It wasn't long before Ron had joined them at the table, piling his plate high with food and adding his own thoughts to the conversation. He told them what it was like to grow up in a wizarding household and all the things he'd seen or tried. The three conversed freely and easily as students filled the hall. The excitement sky rocketed for Hermione when their head of house, Professor McGonagall came by and dropped off their schedules. Ron moaned and groaned about having double potions first thing, especially since it was with Slytherin House. Harry, himself wasn't all that enthusiastic about another run in with Malfoy, which he explained to Hermione. She was about to respond when at the high table, Dumbledore stood up and cleared his throat loudly.

"Welcome students, to another year at Hogwarts. While we normally have start of term announcements at the opening feast, I did not want to sour the mood. I unfortunately do have some sad news to share. Our beloved Ancient Runes teacher, Professor Snape, is no longer with us. She passed away over the summer. The position is to be filled by Professor Babbling," Dumbledore announced, pausing to introduce the instructor.

The students applauded sporadically. The younger students were mostly unaffected, though any deaths were sad, but many of the older students were devastated to hear of the loss of a favorite professor. Still, many others whispered about the remaining Professor Snape, and wonder how he will react to the loss of his wife, wondering if he will be even worse than usual in the classroom. The dark Professor glareed down at the student body, definitely looking worse than he usually did and quite angry.

"The loss of a great professor effects us all, so please, if you need to, speak to your head of house, or Madam Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing," Dumbledore offered. "Now, we also are welcoming a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Professor Quirrell."

After pausing for more scattered applause, Dumbledore added, "And finally, I must tell you that this year,  ** the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death ** ."

With that said, Dumbledore sat back down, digging into his scrambled eggs, and ignoring the incredulous stares of the student body. Around him, the staff groaned and roll their eyes at his dramatic statement, even though they know the reasoning. Hermione, Ron, and Harry share quizzical looks for a moment before it passed and the dinning hall returned to normal. Students finished their breakfast and depart for their first class of the day. With additional groaning, Hermione dragged Harry and Ron with her down to the dungeons for her first potions class.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bold will usually be for dates, but mostly for quotes from the book or movies - this one specifically from Harry Potter and the Sorcerers Stone. You can't have dire warnings without drama queen Dumbledore.


	3. The Potion Master

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve got roughly 13-14 chapters written and quite a bit to write, so we’ll see how it goes.

** September 2, 1991 **

Severus Snape sat at his desk, hands clasped around his pounding head. He had several headache and sober-up potions on hand in the desk drawer, but even in his still slightly intoxicated state, he knew better than to take two in a row. He would have to wait a bit before taking another.

During the previous night, after he had passed out in his chair, he had woken up in the early morning, empty bottle of fire whiskey in his hands. Severus had angrily tossed it into the fireplace. He didn't even flinch as the small residual flames in the hearth flashed to life as the bottle broke and splashes of alcohol ignited.

With a groan, he had lifted himself from the chair and stumbled over to the small sidebar he kept in his rooms. It was mostly full since he and his wife hadn't indulged too often, mostly a bottle of wine with dinner from time to time. However, it had always been well stocked in case of visitors, which Severus had taken advantage of in his drunken haze.

Grabbing another bottle of whiskey off the shelf, he had turned, taking only a few steps before tumbling face down onto the couch. Rolling on to his back, he had decided that it was as good a place as any and worked on prying the lid off the bottle. After several minutes of failure to get his hands to cooperate with him, his temper flared and his magic sparked, causing not only the top to come off, but shattering the mouth of the bottle. Paying no mind, Severus had simply brushed off the shards of glass from his frock coat and lifted the bottle in his hand. The ragged edge of the bottle sliced into his lips as the alcohol flowed into and onto him.

Swearing, he simply wiped his lips with the back of his hand, before pouring more of the liquid into his mouth, being slightly more careful to avoid the jagged edge of the bottle. It burned against the cuts on his lips. It burned against the back of his throat. It burned its way through his body. But it couldn't burn her image out of his mind. So, he had laid there, consuming more and more of the bottle to see if it helped.

That was were Minerva had found him two hours later when she had arrived through the floo.

"Ouch," she exclaimed as she brushed the soot off her robes, catching her hand on an unexpected shard of glass. "Seriously Severus, you wanted to avoid me so much that you booby trapped the floo with glass!"

The severity of the situation hit her when she noticed a bloody Severus, sprawled across the couch, clutching a broken and empty whiskey bottle. Open, bleary and blood-shot eyes showed that he was awake, but far from aware. He was a mess, not to mention the widespread destruction of the room. Minerva had known that he would be hurting. They both were, but she hadn't expected this. The normally completely in control Professor Snape losing all control.

McGonagall grimaced and set to work. Figuring he was fairly stable, she went to work on the room first, so to avoid any additional injuries once he was up and about. She vanished the shards of glass from both the fire place, then from on and around Severus, then the rest of the chambers, since he's broken everything even remotely breakable in the place. A flick of her wand repaired the bookshelves and the books flew back into place, some a little worse for wear. Chairs and tables few back together and the grandfather clock mended. Once the room was in order, she turned to Severus.

Kneeling down by the couch, Minerva had gently taken his hand in her own, whispering spells. She wasn't a healer, but she knew the basics. Small shards of glass rose out of the cuts on his hand and vanished. She summoned a bottle of dittany, knowing he'd have some on hand. Snatching the bottle out of the air, she carefully uncorked it and allowed the liquid to drip slightly over each cut. The sting of the dittany cleaning and closing his wounds seemed to snap Snape back to reality.

"Ahhhh," he groaned, trying to snatch his hand out of Minerva's grasp.

"Easy my boy," she cooed, "I'm just getting you patched up. Hang in there."

Another flick of her wand and a sober-up potion flew into her hand. The stern witch set it down and moved to his other hand, repeating the process. A quick spell cleaned the blood off him. It was then that she noticed the cuts on his lips, as blood continued to ooze out of them.

"Oh, you silly boy," she growled, snatching the empty bottle from him and vanishing it.

The wizard protested slightly, but didn't have much fight left in him. Minerva moved on to the cuts on his lips, a drop or two of dittany on each. She grimaced as it sizzled and popped. The pain was enough that Severus shot up from his prone position with a roar, but it soon faded. Minerva had pressed an open potion vial in his hands, which he had downed with no argument.

The sober-up potion coursed through his body, working, but not very effectively. He knew that it wasn't a problem with the brew. His wife had made it, so it was nothing less than perfection. He simply was a light weight when it came to alcohol and he had consumed enough that it was a surprise he hadn't killed himself. The potion worked partially based on alcohol tolerance versus consumption. However, it was effective enough that he could focus and converse, but he had to admit to himself he was still fairly tipsy.

"What do you think you were doing?" Minerva had yelled at him. "I know it hurts, trust me my son, but she wouldn't want this."

"It doesn't matter what she would want any more Minerva!" He yelled back, all of his anger rushing back. "She left us! She's gone. What's the point?"

"She's not gone for good," Minerva responded, her tone softening. "We'll get her back. We just need to wait it out.”

Severus Snape just shrugged, rising from the couch somewhat unsteadily, before regaining his balance and striding to the door. He hastily threw his teaching robes on over the same clothes he had worn the day before, and left his quarters, slamming the door behind him.

After a quick walk by the lake, to get some fresh air and clear his head, he reluctantly had gone to the great hall for breakfast. It had been pure torture, listening to Albus pronounce his wife dead, though in truth, it felt like she was. The problem was that even though she wasn't with him, he had to see her younger self still.

Having fled breakfast as soon as possible, was how he had found himself in his classroom, awaiting his first class. Glancing up slightly, he peers at the schedule of classes in front of him.

_Of course_,  he thinks , _I'm sure Albus thinks this is some great joke, putting her right in front of me first thing._

It wasn't long before the first year Slytherin and Gryffindor class lumbered in. He tried his hardest not to look for her in the group, but he can't help it. Dark eyes found her instantly as she entered, picking a table up front and settled down at one of the three-person tables, in the middle of her two friends. Severus can't help, but remember a much different potions class.

————————

** October 1971 **

Severus walked beside Lily, ignoring the pointing and whispering of the other students, surprised to see a snake and a lion together. It is difficult to just let it go, but nothing could upset him today. It was their first real, solo brewing day in Potions and that is where they were heading.

Professor Slughorn had been occupying them with the basics for the first few weeks. Learning general potions safety, the various ways to prepare ingredients, and knife skills. While it was all very fascinating, Severus was eager to brew.

They arrived at their destination before any of the other students, and Lily settled down in an end seat at one of the typical three-person potions tables. Severus groaned internally since he always took the end seat, not wanting to have to sit near someone else. However, he reluctantly settled down in the middle seat, wanting to be close to Lily.

As the classroom started to fill, he noticed a head of bushy brown hair in his peripheral vision. Turning, he saw that Gryffindor, Hermione McGonagall had taken up the seat next to him. She was digging through her bookbag, pulling out a notebook, quill, ink, and the potion text, flipping to the page for the brew.

"Gryffindors don't really hang out with Slytherins, you know?" He sneered, not wanting to share the space, especially with a lion that would cause him more trouble than he already had.

Hermione ignored the sneer and responded easily, "You sit with Lily, and she is my friend, so, you shouldn't have a problem with another lion friend."

"How do you know I want to be your friend anyway," he growled petulantly.

Hermione just shrugged, adjusting and readjusting her supplies to make sure she had enough room.

"I want to be your friend, so why wouldn't you want the same," she announced.

Snape was stunned into silence, unsure how to handle thevery bold and pushy Gryffindor next to him.  _ No one wanted to be friends with him. He was poor, wore shabby clothes, and looked funny. Lily and him were only friends because they initially bonded over magic as children, surrounded by muggles. So, what is this pushy Gryffindor's game?_

Before Severus could formulate a suitable reply, Slughorn swept into the room, clapping his hands together to get the attention of the class.

"Now everyone, today is a special day! We are going to be brewing for the first time, so I want everyone on their best behavior!" Professor Slughorn announced. "Now, we will be brewing the Wiggenweld potion! The recipe is in your books in page 57 and ingredients are in the supply closet."

He stopped speaking, but no one moved, waiting hopefully for more assistance than 'follow the text' on their very first brew.

"Well, get to it," Slughorn exclaimed, clapping his hands again.

Students rushed into the supply closet, fighting for ingredients before settling back at their respective tables to start brewing. The class was uneventful for the most part as students work to complete their assignment. One girl managed to cut her finger, and a couple Slytherin boys had stabbed each other with lionfish quills, but nothing catastrophic.

Severus had just finished adding the salamander blood, and leaned over his book to read the next step, while waiting for the potion to turn red. While he is distracted, Gryffindor first year's James Potter and Sirius Black, at the table in front of him, took turn tossing chizpurfle fangs into Snape's cauldron.

The Slytherin missed the distinct kerplunk of the fangs sinking into the cauldron, but grew concerned when his pink solution started to turn green. Flipping rapidly through the reference text in an almost panic, he missed the snickering from the other table.

"Add another three drops of moondew," Hermione advised, touching him gently on the shoulder to gain his attention.

Slightly suspicious of the Gryffindor, but desperate to avoid disaster, Severus listened and added the additional moondew to his cauldron. The potion immediately started to shift back to the pink it was, before rapidly continuing to change to the red it was supposed to be. He breatheda sigh of relief and leans slightly over to his classmate.

"Thank you. How did you know how to fix it?" he whispered, hastily writing a quick note in the margins of his book.

She doesn't get a chance to answer him though, because at that moment, a flobberworm cane flying from up front, landing directly atop Hermione's mess of hair. Laughter erupted from the Gryffindor boys. Snape glared at them, reaching into his robes for his wand, when he felt a hand on his arm pulling him back.

"Don't worry about it, Severus. You'll just get in trouble, and it's only a flubberworm," Hermione explained, her hands in her hair, trying to dislodge the writhing creature.

Severus stared at her in shock.  Helping him. Protecting him. Maybe she really did want to be his friend.

"Would you mind?" She asked him, pulling him from his thoughts. "I can't seem to get it."

He noded and lifts his hand, long fingers tangle in her hair as he snatched the flubberworm, working delicately to dislodge it without pulling her hair too much. When he was done, she smiled up at him.

"Thank you."

——-————

Severus returned to his classroom, all of his students sitting at their desks, staring at him, while he stared off into space, somewhere vaguely above Granger's head.

Clearing his throat, he flicked his wand, the classroom door slamming shut. His Occlumency walls do the same, as he began his start of term speech for the first years. Like she had always been able to do, his wife cracked through his shields, an image of her, stalking around their living room in nothing but his way too large teaching robes, imitating his speech, making him laugh.

Growling, he locked his walls down even more, turning on the class and finding a source for his anger. While Severus had made peace with the Marauders before the death of James and Lily Potter, he still remembered the torment inflicted on him in school. Summoning those feelings and his rage, he turned his attention to Harry Potter.

" Potter!" said Snape suddenly. **"What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"**

**" I don't know sir," said Harry**

**" Tut, tut - fame clearly isn't everything. Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"**

**" I don't know sir."**

**" Thought you wouldn't open. A book before coming, eh, Potter? What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"**

**" I don't know," said Harry quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"***

That stalled Snape, as he has been pointedly ignoring Hermione Granger and her hand raised so high in the air her arm had to be aching. He’s angry and wanted to humiliate the son, as the father had done to him. Feeling as if he has succeeded, since his Slytherins are all snickering at the Boy Who Knows Nothing, he turned away. 

“Put you hand down, you silly little girl,” he snapes, his back to her, so he cannot see the look of hurt cross her face.

He waved his hand at the blackboard and the questions he had just put to Potter appear on the board.

"Each of you will answer these questions and thoroughly research the properties of the various ingredients. I expect two feet of parchment on it by next class. Start now!" He growled before returning to his desk.

The students opened their books and started thumbing through them, the furious scratching of quill tip on parchment the only sound in the classroom. Severus sat at his desk, clutching his head in one hand and playing with the handle of the top drawer with the other. He knows that he cannot take potions in front of the students, but the pounding headache has him tempted to do it anyway.

Thankfully, before he knows it, class had ended. He dismissed the students with a wave and they hurry to pack up their things and get out. Severus was too busy focusing on his headache to notice that Hermione had waved off the boys, letting them know that she'll catch up. She approached his desk quietly.

"Sorry to disturb you Professor," she said.

He looked up at her then. Glaring into a face he knows so well. When she spoke, he realized that her teeth had stayed straight and normal size. He was glad for that, as in his time, she had researched long and hard in their third year to find the spell to reduce her buck teeth because of the Marauders continued harassment. She'd also managed to straighten out his teeth for him then, fixing the damage done by his abusive and neglectful father.

"Class is over, Miss Granger," he declared, forcing himself to stay in the present.

"I just wanted to offer my condolences for the loss of you wife. I'm sorry that you're going through this," she offered quietly before turning and leaving.

He spelled the door closed shut behind her and groaned. Ripping open the drawer, he pulled out a headache potion and downed it, feeling the pounding recede a bit only after moments. With that, he pushed himself up from the desk, glad the room doesn't spin, and turned toward the door at the back of the classroom. Passing through his office without stopping, he entered his chambers, maneuvering around the newly fixed furniture to the bar.

Unfortunately, he had consumed all of the fire whiskey already. He maked a mental note to restock, as he grabed a bottle of rum from a little-known wizarding distillery. Severus glanced down at the label wistfully, shaking his head at his wife's extensive interests. As she had gotten older, the muggle ways of her childhood had completely faded in her mind, and she knew that he was not fond of his muggle upbringing. So, they had taken trips to little wizarding villages all over, sampling food and drink, often bringing back trophies. The tall wizard currently held one of those trophies in his hands.

Part of him wanted to throw it into the fireplace, smash the bottle and ruin the contents. He wanted to scorch every piece and part of her from his life and his mind. In the end, he twisted the top off the bottle and took several long gulps. He hesitated slightly as his hands went to return the bottle to its home, before tucking it under his robes and turning back towards the door. Returning to his classroom, he tucked the bottle into the bottom drawer, and waited for his next group of students.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, the large bold chunk is obviously text from the book. So credits to Harry Potter and the Sorcerers Stone.


	4. Tackling the Troll

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I should probably include the world and characters are J.K. Rowlings and I do not profit from this.
> 
> Thanks for the response! Keep letting me know what yall think!

** October 31, 1991 **

Minerva sat at the desk in her office, marking papers furiously. So much red ink was being allotted to each paper lately, the students probably thought that Snape had taken over their grading. However, the furious scribbling and harsh criticisms for her students did nothing to help her frustration.

Some of the Gryffindor first years had come to her, yet again, in concern over Hermione Granger crying herself to sleep nightly. It had been six weeks, since Minerva broke the news to the young girl. She had informed Miss Granger that there had been a fire at her family home and her parents had not made it. Hermione had broken down in tears in Minerva's office, and the older witch had done her best to console her, not unlike the first time she had found out she'd lost her family, all those years ago.

Dumbledore had secured a vault in Miss Granger's name, supplying her with some funds, for her to be able to buy some things for herself. Severus had also insisted on contributing to the vault, adding enough galleons that she wouldn't want for anything during her time at Hogwarts. For the sake of maintaining the secret, McGonagall explained it away as Dumbledore settling Hermione's family estate for her.

Now though, Minerva wasn't sure what she could do to help her girl. Back in 1971, Minerva had invited her new 'daughter' to tea several times a week, giving them time to get to know each other. It had helped the transition, easing the girl's grief. Even over the years the two had maintained a weekly tea time during the school terms to keep in touch. However, this time around, she wasn't going to be the girl's adoptive mother.

It was still a point of contention between her and Dumbledore, so much so, that she had stopped talking to him except for school business. The friendship that had spanned decades had been shattered, and Minerva had no interest in fixing it. Who was he to take away her girl for the sake of moving his pawns on the chessboard?

——-————

** December 1973 **

"Mom!" came the call from down the hall.

Minerva smiled, still amazed at the young woman that had entered her life just a few short years prior. Hermione had just the last summer taken to calling her mom. It had been rather suddenly, and the poor girl had looked mortified the first time she had done it, but Minerva had simply treated it like normal and continued the conversation, even though she was ecstatic. Within the week, it was always mom and no longer Minerva.

"Yes dear?" Minerva called out to her, far more tamely. "You don't need to shout you know. I can hear you just fine."

The brown-haired young witch slid around the corner and to a sudden stop in front of Minerva's chair. Hermione had grown a lot in just over two years. Not just physically, though she was taller. She had grown more into her magic, impressive as it had been when she had first started at Hogwarts, it was a force to be reckoned with.

Anything she put her mind too, she accomplished, no matter the subject matter. At the end of her second year due to the constant teasing, she had learned a spell, that was designed to tame her bushy brown hair in a matter of moments, not bothered by the fact that it was a spell fifth years struggled with. Sure, she had struggled to learn the spell and she had come to Minerva for help more than once with tragic hair mishaps, but she had kept at it, mastering the spell in just a few short months. Now, without much work or magical energy at all, her hair fell in neat waves around her face.

That powerful, confident young witch stood in front of her now, excited grin on her face, just bursting at the seems to share whatever it was that she had found or done now. Minerva couldn't help, but smile and be proud of her daughter.

"Mom," Hermione blurted, "You'll never believe what I did? It was awesome! I've been working so hard for a while now … but then you know that … but I was starting to think it would never happen and it did!"

"What happened dear?" Minerva asked, trying to keep up with the energy and enthusiasm of her 14-year-old adoptive daughter.

"I transformed into my animagus form finally! I have to show you," Hermione exclaimed, tugging at her mother's arms to pull her from her chair.

"Well, hang on a minute. I will not be going anywhere in my dressing gown," Minerva informed her sternly before turning and heading toward her bedroom.

Even though it was Christmas holidays and the school was almost empty, Minerva wouldn't break decorum, not even for the pleading, almost exploding with excitement, girl on the other side of her bedroom door. Dressing quickly, since the old witch was almost as excited as the girl, she emerged again, promptly being dragged by the hand through the castle.

They had started working on animagus training during the summer holidays, after much persistence and pestering from the younger witch. Minerva had argued many times over meals, that Hermione was much too young, but eventually, she had been worn down and training had started. The young witch, that excelled at everything, often teaching herself things, struggled with the exercises and tasks required of animagus training. Sessions were ended with heaps of frustration on both sides. Hermione had become desperate enough to try her training without Minerva's assistance and had ended up in St. Mungo's for three days. After that, McGonagall had insisted on a wand oath, that Hermione wouldn't train alone without her express permission.

By the end of summer, Hermione had progressed enough that she was given permission to train on her own, as Minerva was at the point where she couldn't teach her anymore. It was simply time for her to practice the exercises, try the techniques, and learn more about herself in the process. Though Hermione was frustrated with the lack of immediate results, Minerva was impressed.

Now, months later, it was obviously worth all the time, effort, and frustration as the girl dragged the older witch through the entry hall and out until the snowy December night. Having never observed or see any indication of what the girl's animagus form might be, Minerva assume it was quite large, since changing in the warmth of their quarters hadn't been an option.

Leaving her mother on the steps to the castle, Hermione leapt out into the snow, enjoying the fluffy white flakes and the brisk cold. For a moment, she just enjoyed the weather, before suddenly changing form, her black shape taking off into the night sky. On the ground, Minerva stood, staring in awe and wonder as her child changed shape before her eyes, preforming magic well beyond her age.

——-———

The trail of thought sparked an idea and Minerva pushed away from her desk, rushing over to the fireplace. Kneeling slowly in front of the fire, she tossed a handful of powder into the flames, calling out "The Burrow". The floo call connected instantly.

"Molly, are you there?" Minerva asked, peering through the floo into an empty Weasley kitchen.

The Weasley matriarch bustled into the room, having heard her name being called.

"Oh, Minerva, sorry, I was just in the living room working on some knitting," Molly explained. "What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if you might be willing to come through later today for tea? Hermione is having a terrible time managing the news. I was thinking that it might be helpful for her too meet you and get to know you a bit," Minerva told her.

"That is a great idea! I can come through after lunch."

"Splendid," Minerva agreed. "I'll let her know and we will see you then. Thank you very much Molly!"

The floo call ended and McGonagall sat back on her heels with a sigh. She is jealous of the time Molly will get to spend with her daughter. Time she should have with Hermione. Well, with the older version of Hermione, but either way it should be her time. The old witch acknowledged that she isn't getting any younger, and even with the circumstances, she is still losing time with the girl that changed her life.

Sure, as her head of house and professor, McGonagall got to see her, but it is far from the same relationship. The very best she can do now, is make sure that Hermione is taken care of, even if that means she needs Molly instead.

Casting a quick spell to check the time, McGonagall groaned as she rose to her feet. Classes were about to let out and if she was quick, she could check on Severus before class with her fourth years.

——-——-

"Where's Hermione?" Harry asked, noticing her absence, as they sat down in the great hall for the Halloween feast.

"Dunno," Ron mumbled around a mouthful of chicken, his plate already piled high with food.

"She's been in the bathroom crying since her meeting with McGonagall. No one has been able to convince her to come out," Lavender Brown said, sitting across the table from the boys.

"That meeting was with my mum though," Ron said, “Shouldn't she be happy she has a home again?"

Everyone in the area grimaced at the tasteless comment, while Ron remained as clueless as ever. Fred and George were sitting close enough to the first years to supply their input.

"Unlike you, little brother, our Hermione is human," Fred said.

"Yeah, with normal human emotions," George added.

Both Ron and Harry look a little clueless, trying to understand what they are saying.

"Just because she's bonding with mum doesn't mean the loss of her family doesn't hurt," George explained, rolling his eyes at their cluelessness.

"If anything, it'll just make it hurt more for a while," Fred finished.

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Because it is a huge reminder that her parents are gone," Lavender announced.

"How do you two know this?" Ron asked the twins suspiciously.

"Rule seven of dating: learn how to manage sad and upset women," Fred started.

"And life will be infinitely easier," George ended.

The boys shrugged and dig into their meals again. One of the twins threw a roll, that bounced off of Ron's head, earning him a rude gesture in response.

"Not going to go help you friend?" George asked.

"What can we do?" Harry asked, seriously at a loss for how to help.

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "It's not like we're going to go in the girl's bathroom! And Lavender already said she wouldn't come out."

The conversation was interrupted by Professor Quirrell bursting through the great hall doors. He stumbled down the main aisle shouting at the top of his lungs.

** " Troll — in the dungeons — thought you ought to know,”  before collapsing to the floor. **

** " Prefects," Dumbledore rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately." **

All of the students seem to rise from their tables as one. The Prefects of each house tried their best to maintain a semblance or order, but the best they managed was a mildly contained rabble. Students exploded from the great hall, darting in all directions.

"What about Hermione?" Harry asked as they stepped into the entry hall.

" What about her?"

" She doesn't know about the troll," Harry answered. "We need to go get her."

Together, the two boys broke away from the Gryffindor mob and rushed off to the girl's bathroom.

——-——-

Tea with Molly Weasley had been nice. The older witch obviously had tons of experience mothering, with seven kids. She had told Hermione a little bit about the what the Burrow was like, talked about all of her children, and her husband. Truly, Molly had painted a spectacular picture, but it wasn't Hermione's home.

It wasn't the two-story brick home in a small London suburb. The mantel lined with pictures of their various vacations. It wasn't discussions of upcoming dental procedures over dinner. It wasn't reading with her father in the study or baking with her mother in the kitchen.

Hermione had maintained her composure and polite demeanor until the meeting was done. She waited until she was definitely out of sight before sprinting through the halls, making her way to one of the least used girl's bathrooms in Hogwarts, aside from the second floor at least.

The first-floor bathroom near the dungeon was rarely used, as more often than not, students avoided the dungeon area like the plague, and there were bathrooms closer to the great hall anyways. Still, some of the other Gryffindor first years had tracked her down, standing outside of the stall and trying to coerce her into coming out. Despite several attempts, Hermione refused to even respond to them. They finally had to give up and return to classes, leaving Hermione to grieve in peace.

Finally, Hermione emerged from the bathroom stall, and approached the sinks. She sighed as she looks in the mirror, her eyes puffy and red, moisture still lining her lower lids, her nose red and irritated. Turning on the tap, she leaned forward and splashed some water on her face. Just as she turned off the water, she heard a shuffling near the entrance to the bathroom and she prepared for what she expected to be a group of well-meaning Gryffindor's to drag her to the tail end of the Halloween feast.

As she turned toward the entrance of the bathroom, Hermione's eyes widened, as a huge, grey skinned creature stepped into view. The massive troll drug a huge club, which maked the shuffling sound she had originally heard. In shock, she stood completely still, staring at the monster.

It isn't until he took in her presence, growling in response, that she moved, dashing back into the toilet stall, throwing the lock, and wrapping herself around the base of the toilet. Mentally, her brain was running in overdrive, freaking out over the situation and her choice, but knowing she didn't have any better options with the troll blocking the doorway. In response to her stress, magic and memories leaked slowly from the crack in the magical door in her mind, locking them away. Her bushy hair started to crackle with sparks, as her magic built around her.

The magic built, creating a soothing presence, slowing her thoughts and clearing her mind. From somewhere deep in her mind, a strong feeling emerged: push. Her entire being entreated her to push the troll away, to push the danger away. Push, her mind and her magic shouted at her. In her head, embossed in fiery red letters, the word flipendo appeared . Her mind latched onto the word, targeting the building magic and shouting the word. Suddenly, she felt a great loss, the power draining from her, leaving her feeling empty and weak as it receded behind the door once more.

However, the troll, had already reared back its club, preparing to wipe out the entire row of stalls. Before it completed the swing, a magical force pushed the troll to make it stumble backwards, causing the club to just crush the top of the stalls, raining shards of wood down upon the witch.

Hermione screamed in fear, crawling along the floor, trying to find more shelter. She knows that with the sudden fatigue, she wouldn't be able to outrun the troll. Thankfully, Harry and Ron appeared in the doorway suddenly, though, she notes, without any additional help.

"Hermione!" they shouted together.

The troll was briefly distracted by the boys, missing its swing once again, crushing the sinks, dangerously close to the cowering Hermione.

Turning back to its initial target, the troll raised its club again. Recklessly, Harry ran forward, grabbing the head of the club. The momentum of the club lifted the boy into the air. Finding himself on the troll's shoulders, Harry simply did his best to hang on as it tried to shake him loose.

"Do something!" Harry screamed, ducking as the troll reached for him.

Hermione used the distraction to flee, hugging the wall as she crawled over to the entryway, joining Ron. Ron raised his wand, casting the first spell that came to mind.

Magic directed at the troll, hit its target. The effect wasn’t immediate, but within moments massive wings start to appear from the troll's nose. Soon, the monster was surrounded by many large, winged boogies, attacking its head.

Swearing rather colorfully, Harry fought to hang on while also defending himself from the vicious boogies. The troll threw its head, catching Harry by surprise and knocking him loose. The boy started to tumble the twelve feet towards the hard-stone floor. Hermione flicked her wand, after having fought to extract it from her torn and tangled robes, at her friend.

"Wingardium Leviosa," Hermione shouted.

At the same time, a silky-smooth voice boomed through the bathroom, "Stupify!"

Harry was caught within Hermione's magic, lifting back up onto the air slightly before she gently lowered him to the floor. Behind him, the troll was thrown into the back wall of the bathroom with the force of the stunner.

Once all feet were back on the floor, the three students whipped around and found themselves face to face with their teachers. Hermione swayed on her feet, exhaustion dragging her closer and closer to the darkness. She strugglex against the dizziness as her body attempted to pass out on the spot.

"What do you three think you are doing?" Professor McGonagall screeched.

Harry and Ron just looked at each other helplessly, trying to come up with a good enough excuse. They turned wordlessly, surveying their teachers. McGonagall is staring them down, fire and promises of grueling punishment in her eyes. Severus Snape, who had knocked the troll out, glared down his nose at the trio, watching them closely. Quirrell rounded out the group, looking oddly annoyed.

"It looks like they were holding their own," Quirrell offered timidly, as jumpy and edgy as always.

"Holding their own! Really," Minerva rounded on Quirrell, anger raging unchecked.

"Oh yes, that bat-boogie hex was really effective," Snape sneered, sarcasm dripping from his words.

Before Minerva could turn on him, Hermione succumbed to the darkness. Severus swept in and scooped her up in his arms. As he does so, Harry noticed that Snape was limping heavily, his robes parting enough to reveal a large, bloody gash on his leg. However, the boy's suspicion of his professor was pushed aside by worry for his friend.

"Let's get these three to the hospital wing Severus," McGonagall announced. "Do you think you can manage watching the stunned troll until the Ministry employees arrive, Professor Quirrell?"

The professor jumped and adjusted his turban slightly, willfully ignoring the scorn dripping from her words.

"Of course," Professor Quirrell said. "I'd be a rather poor defense teacher if I couldn't."

The end of his statement is punctuated by a yelp, as he jumped nearly three feet in the air, as the knocked-out troll snorted.

Rolling her eyes, McGonagall turned, ushering the boys ahead of her, while Severus followed, a passed-out Hermione Granger draped across his arms.

Passing quickly through the empty halls, the reached the hospital wing in no time. Severus reluctantly released the unconscious Miss Granger, lowering her down on to one of the beds in the wing. Snape resisted the urge to start his own healing spells, hands fisted by his side, letting Poppy do her job.

The mediwitch ran a quick diagnosis on the girl. Poppy frowned at the reading, but acknowledged that Hermione isn't in any danger, the girl simply exhausted. The healer turned towards Harry, quickly mended the few scratches he had, before sending the boys off to their dormitories.

"What is wrong with her?" Minerva asked, now that she is alone with her colleagues.

"It seems to be magical exhaustion," Poppy responded, waving her wand over the girl, "but I've never seen this level of exertion on a student of Hermione's current age."

"Obviously," Severus snapss, "this isn't a typical case. She's a time-traveling 31-year-old witch, in the body and mind of an 11-year-old."

"Easy son," Minerva said, walking up to him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

This close, she can smell the alcohol on him, and she furrowed her brow. It was painful to watch his downward spiral, but she isn't sure how to help the wizard. His situation was cruel, so the anger and drinking were not unexpected, but it was still worrying.

"It looks like she only used two spells," Poppy frowned, until the next scan revealed the answers she was looking for. "But one of those was a flipendo with quiet a lot of force."

"But that is a third-year spell," Minerva scowled.

"It would have taken a lot of magic at her current age to even budge a twelve-foot troll," Snape muttered.

"That spell makes up the majority of the cause behind her magical exhaustion. The levitation was just the icing on the cake," Madam Pomfrey said. "Not that she should be able to access that much magic at this age."

"Did something go wrong with her de-aging Severus?" Minerva asked, knowing he had been there.

"No," he answered firmly. "I locked her memories away myself. The door restricts her magic as well, limited to the amount her physical age and body can withstand."

"Then what happened?" the transfiguration professor asked.

Severus stayed quiet, letting his hand drift to cover the still hand of the young witch. Thought her memories were locked away, her mind is still known to him and he followed the familiar pathways in. Gently, he brushed against her memories of the battle with the troll, only seeing the building and expression of power. Concerned, he looks over the door he built, checking it over, making sure there are no cracks or breeches. Satisfied with his work, he emerged to both witches watching him carefully.

"Still securely locked away," he answered, before sweeping out of the room, no longer able to tolerate the situation.

Minerva sighed.

"She'll be fine Minerva," Poppy assured her, "she just needs some rest. A few days and she will wake and her magical core will be refreshed."

"Yes, she'll will heal and be alright," McGonagall responded, staring, not at Hermione, but at the empty doorway to the hospital wing, "but will he?"

——————

The hospital wing was silent, the mediwitch even in bed at this hour. The young witch was the only student in the wing this night. The subtle shifting of magic slowly built around the girl, drawing into her and seeping from her, causing a very faint, ghastly light to surround her. The minute crack in Severus' barrier door, so small he had missed it, grew slightly as magic seeped through.

After a short time, the magic dissipated. Hermione Granger stired slightly, looking groggily around at her surroundings. The pull of sleep is too much and she falls back asleep before questioning where she was. Though incredibly tired still, her magical core was returned to normal.

The next day, much to Poppy Pomfrey's concern, Hermione was feeling well enough to leave the hospital wing. Watching the young witch walk out the door, the mediwitch wondered to herself, what exactly is happening to her young friend.


	5. Fighting Addiction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little heads up, this is a rought chapter.

** June 1992 **

"Severus?" Minerva called from the floo. "Boy, where are you?"

When he didn't respond, she stepped through the floo and into his chambers. All around her, empty bottles littered the floor, sat upon tables, and filled the small waste bin. Dirty clothes hung over every chair in the room, except his large winged back chair by the fire and in piles on the floor.

The chair that had been Hermione's in the years she had shared the quarters with her husband was destroyed again. Minerva had repaired that chair more than a dozen times since the girl had de-aged, but it seemed that finally Severus had decided to get rid of it for good, as half a charred chair leg was hanging out of the fire and all that remained where the chair once sat was a small pile of fluff. The space now filled with more empty bottles.

It had been three days since the students had left, longer since she had last seen Severus, and even longer still since she had visited his chambers. A quick spell vanished the empty bottles. With her son-in-law nowhere in sight, Minerva turned with determination towards the bedroom.

Kicking aside a clump of black robes, she entered the bedroom. The first thing that she noticed was the smell and she recoiled, holding her hand under her nose, hoping the scent of her lavender lotion would help. Stale alcohol, unwashed human flesh, urine, and the sour stench of vomit filled the room, stubborn enough to not be phased by Minerva's lavender lotion. Inside the darkened room, all she could see was a large black lump upon the bed.

Flicking her wand, the scones in the room flared to life, revealing a disaster zone. A disgruntled groan emerged from under a pile of blankets, but no person in sight. Empty bottles littered the floor and all surfaces in this room as well, ranging from butterbeer to muggle liquor. The dark bedding showed well-developed sweat stains and many discolored areas, where Severus must have thrown up in his drunken stupor. She couldn't help but notice, that the spots that could only be best described as, chunky, were the oldest. Since he hadn't seemed to have slowed down on the alcohol, the old witch assume he hadn't been eating.

Growling in irritation, she marched into the bathroom, the surfaces coated in dust, clearly unused. The toilet at least looked semi-recently used, but the smells in the other room had indicated that it hadn't been as frequently as necessary. Pointing her wands at the tap, the large tub, though it was more of a small pool, had started to fill. Marching back into the bedroom, she cast an evenesco on the linens covering, what she hoped and assumed was the form of Severus Snape.

The naked, urine and vomit covered wizard yelped in surprise, swearing up a storm at the old witch. Without hesitation, McGonagall levitated the man she's known since he was a boy, naked as the day he was born, and currently at his lowest.

"Minerva, you pesky, meddling cat! You put me down this instance," Severus yelled, his voice slightly slurred.

Much to her amusement, it was over the mostly full tub that he finished his statement, so she dropped the spell, and the man.

He sank like a stone, then struggled to the surface, sputtering, swearing, and threatening all sorts of cruel punishments for the witch. Soon, all words ceased as magical brushes scrubbed Severus from head to toe, including his mouth every time he tried to open it.

Sullenly, he suffered through his cleansing, dressed himself in the clothes she provided, the only robes she could scourgify clean without them falling apart, and sat himself in his chair, facing the annoyed witch.

Without consulting him, she had set a horde of house elves loose in his chambers, insisting they burn all his clothes and linens, before ordering more, assuring the little creatures that Madam Malkin would have his measurements on file. The little creatures scurried about the room, vanishing piles of dirty robes, dirty dishes, and the handful of bottles hiding under furniture that Minerva had missed. They siphoned dust off of almost every surface, oblivious to the glaring potion master.

"I haven't seen you since the incident with the stone," Minerva stated plainly, waiting for an explanation.

"I've been busy," he muttered sullenly.

"I can see that," she said, looking pointedly at a pile of empty liquor bottles being swept out from under the couch she sat on.

"Poppy says she hasn't been getting the usual batches of potions to resupply the infirmary. She even had to brew pepper-up herself. You should have heard that woman swear, muttering about how long it had been since she had been forced to brew," Minerva chucked, trying to lighten the mood.

"What do you want, Minerva?" Snape snapped.

"I'm worried about you, son," the old witch stated.

"Well, I'm not your son, so you don't have to worry," Severus replied sullenly. "Didn't you hear Dumbledore? My wife is dead. I'm no longer your problem."

"You are still my son-in-law," Minerva declared. "Dead or alive. Normal or de-aged. That wonderful girl is still my daughter. And she chose you to share her life with, so you will always be my son."

"Bossy witch," he muttered, cradling his head in his hands.

Despite his words, he didn't have the energy to fight her on the matter. His head was pounding worse than ever, since he hadn't even bothered to brew headache potions for himself recently. What he really needed was another drink. The perpetual state of drunkenness he had enjoyed for most of the year was starting to fade. Severus Snape for the first time in his life considered himself a coward, because he didn't dare face a world without his wife while sober.

"What would our Hermione think of you acting like this?" Minerva asked gently.

Without pausing to think, Severus responded, "My little witch would kick my arse, then hex me for good measure."

Minerva chuckled sadly, "And she'd do the same to me for letting you get into this state in the first place."

"I don't know how to do this Minerva," he admitted quietly. "I don't know how to live without her. How do I come home to these quarters we shared every day? How do I fall asleep without my arms around her or wake up and not be crushed that she isn't there? She was my whole life, Minerva."

"I know, son. She changed the lives of everyone she interacted with, but this hurts you and me the most. But she would want us to keep going. She isn't gone for good, Severus. We are going to get our girl back. Come hell or high water," Minerva assured him.

The wizard chuckled lightly at the older witches' determination. With a sigh, he pulled back the sleeve of his robe on his left arm.

"And to top it all off, there is this," he muttered darkly, all humor gone.

On his left arm, the dark mark appeared, outlined in a light grey against his skin. The image seemed to faintly pulse with life.

McGonagall gasped, "But wasn't that completely faded? Just a faint scar after the Potter's were killed?"

"Yes, but his soul survived somehow. The mark went dormant while he was away it seems," Severus explained.

"You mean to say that he is back?" She asked.

"Not really back. Not yet at least. But his spirit is stronger. And he is back in Britain. He was essentially hitchhiking on Quirrell this last year before the Boy Wonder thwarted him," Severus explained with disgust.

"Don't be so hard on the boy, Severus," Minerva pleaded. "He is not his father."

"His father or not, he has placed Hermione in danger," Severus growled, "And will continue to do so if Albus has his way. Danger follows that boy and she follows him. I will never forgive that."

Severus sighed and rose from the chair, opening a cabinet in the kitchen and pulling out a bottle of muggle rum. The pounding in his head was out of control, and he was way too close to sober for his liking. If the meddlesome old witch wasn't going to leave, then he was going to go ahead and drink with her here.

He didn't even bother with a glass or offering her one, as he sat, starting to work the lid off the bottle. Before he could get it open though, Minerva had vanished the whole bottle. Severus snarled in irritation, ready to lay into the witch.

"No," Minerva insisted firmly. "I will not allow this to continue! I will not fail Hermione and let you drink yourself into an early grave. We are going to survive this and it will all just be a bad memory when we have our girl back."

Embarrassment quenched the rage inside him. He knew that Hermione, his witch, the woman he had married, would be ashamed and furious with him.

"Besides, if we are going to protect her from the trouble headed her way, you are going to need to be at your best," the witch announced.

"How?" Severus asked quietly, before admitting softly, “I don't know how to stop myself. I don't know how to quit. How to do this without her.”

"Then we get you help my boy. Though, I warn you, I won't be easy. You remember how hard it was to break your dreamless sleep addiction during the war. However, I'm here to help."

Severus nodded and let her drag him from his chambers. They wove through the castle, ending up at the hospital wing. Poppy had her head in a cabinet, reorganizing when they arrived, but emerged when Minerva gently cleared her throat.

They had a quick conversation with the mediwitch, exposing his weakness, much to Severus' annoyance. The final decision was that he would go to St. Mungo's Addiction Ward for treatment over the summer.

While not thrilled, the young wizard submitted, willing to do anything to get better. Minerva was right, he couldn't take care of Hermione as a drunk. The previous week had proved he couldn't even take care of himself. He needed to ger better, even if it killed him.

Unfortunately, he soon found out that it would do everything but kill him.

—————————

The St. Mungo's Addiction Ward was not a place for the faint hearted. Nurses saw it all, the typical anger, sickness, but also dealt with spontaneous magic, despite the fact that all patients were stripped of their wands. Withdrawal symptoms were bad in the best circumstances and in muggles. Add in witches and wizards and things escalated quickly. And for one Severus Snape, who had barely been sober at all in the previous 10 months, this wasn't the best circumstances.

The first two days were the worst. Severus had been awake the whole time, unable to sleep, the headache pounding away in his skull, constantly puking his guts up. The worst though had been hallucinations. If Severus had thought that seeing younger Hermione had been torture, then reliving his past with his wife was complete hell.

————————

** June 1972 **

"How'd you do?" Severus Snape asked, sitting down at their table in the library.

Tweleve-year-old, Snape was tall and incredibly thin, despite a year of Hogwarts feasts. His hair was long and so dark it always caught the light in the worst way, appearing greasy even when freshly washed. Much to his annoyance, he had a slightly large nose, which was prominent on his youthful, but thin and rather hollow face. He didn't smile much, courtesy of his father's abuse and neglect, leading to crooked and slightly yellowed teeth.

"Trade," Hermione announced, sliding the parchment, with her exam scores, across the table to him.

Her bushy hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, keeping it out of her face while she read the large tome on the table in front of her. He could see the wayward tendrils of her bushy mane already tangling themselves around the band, trying to escape.

"Your transfiguration scores are amazing," he gawked, passing his paper to her.

"Yeah, but you beat me in astronomy."

"Eh, it was a bit of a hobby of mine pre-Hogwarts," Severus admitted, leaving out the part that the roof had been his safe haven during his father's drunken rants.

"Sweet Merlin," she swore, "your defense score is not human."

He blushed, tipping his head to hide it in his hair, while his mind shifted to the stack of questionable books in his trunk. While they were not outright banned, some of material within was rather dark. Severus was curious how Hermione would respond to the material.

They had discussed and debated many subjects and topics over the school year, but nothing along those lines. Lily had mostly quit hanging out with him earlier in the year after catching him with Understanding Your Magical Enemy despite the fact that it was more of a grey magic book, rather than outright dark like some of his other books. She never hung out with him one on one anymore, only with Hermione around.

He was worried about losing Hermione too, but shrugged anyway and said, "I'll loan you a book."

"We were about equal in the other subjects," she announced before shouting in triumph. "Ha, I squeaked ahead of you in potions!"

"Slughorn's bias," Severus muttered.

"Bah, if he was biased, it would be toward you, you snake!" Hermione joked, jostling him playfully.

Severus was grateful that she had gone straight back to her book and hadn't seen the way he flinched slightly in response.

————————

** March 1973 **

"But the Unforgiveables are really more unnecessary than anything else," Hermione argued. "The magical input required for any of the three spells is enormous. Not to mention the negative emotional input. Those energy requirements would be simply draining."

Severus and Hermione were sitting down by the lake, enjoying an early, but most likely short break from the snows. True to his word, Snape had loaned her one of his books over the summer. The wait had been utterly painful, but less than a week after he had gotten home, Achilles, Hermione's owl (a present from McGonagall on her twelfths birthday) had pecked at his window, and he wasn't carrying a howler.

The response had been promising, which was a relief since he had expected outright scorn. While she had made it clear that she disapproved of dark magic, she had several points of interest and hypothetical questions for him. Before the end of the summer, he'd sent her another book, which was met with much the same response. Despite having to be home, the summer had turned out rather well for him.

"True, but it's not really about the energy requirements isn't it? It's more about the fear component," Snape argued in response.

They continued, back and forth for a while. Each pulling books from their bags to help prove their points. They had quickly exhausted the stash of books Snape had pilfered from his mother's old trunk in the attic within the first few weeks of school.

With no other options left to them, the two had spent most of the year devising a spell to break the magical locks on the Restricted Section without getting caught. Their first attempt had alerted Madam Pince, earning Severus two weeks of detention - which they considered getting off lightly since the librarian has assumed, he was simply trying to sneak in. Their second attempt, which had been a month prior, was a success and they browsed to their hearts content, in the name of educational pursuits of course.

——-—————

** October 1973 **

Dumbledore had decided, out of the blue, that instead of a Halloween feast, they should have a Halloween Ball. Third years and up had been invited to the ball held in the great hall on Halloween. First and second years would all have a mini-party of their own in their respective common rooms.

Rumors were circulating, probably from the upper class, that third years were only being included because the common rooms weren't big enough. Either way, the younger participants were going to enjoy themselves. The more popular students, like Sirius Black and James Potter had no concerns about asking a girl to the dance.

Tall, gangly Severus Snape was terrified, though mostly of the response than anything else. It had been three weeks since the ball had been announced and only another two until the actual day, so he'd told himself that he had to ask today, or he’d miss his shot.

Watching her at their typical table in the library, he noticed once again, the wavy brown hair that was new this year. While he appreciated the new look, he thought it was a shame that endless comments about her out of control hair, and the frequent live occupant, all from the Marauders, had driven her to make the change.

Summoning his courage, Severus took his normal seat beside her, turning to face her when she looked up from her book.

"Hey Severus," Hermione greeted him with a smile.

He smiled back, something he found himself doing more and more often for her despite his teeth. Steeling himself before he lost his nerve, he decided to go for it.

"Hey, I was wondering," he started smoothly, and then she smiled at him encouragingly. "Um, if you might be interested ... but you don't really have ..."

He trailed off, his face glowing red with embarrassment.

"Yes, I'd love to go to the Halloween Ball with you Severus," she answered, chuckling lightly at his sudden awkwardness.

She went back to her book. He smiled as well, but then panicked, wondering if she thought he meant just as friends.

"But not just as friends, you know," he added quickly and somewhat quietly. “As an actual date, kinda.”

"I know," was all she said, peering up shyly from her book, a small smile hiding partially behind her curtain of hair.

To say that Severus Snape was floored would be an understatement.

————————

Thirty-two-year-old Severus Snape puked and sobbed and swore and lashed out with bouts of wild magic. His mind seemed determined to remind him of the early days. The times in their lives where things had been easy and joyful between them. The time that she was now reliving without him.

His mind decided the visual torture wasn't enough though. It whispered his worst fears to him.

What if she finds someone else? She fell in love with you during school, why wouldn't she find love again? What if she falls in love with Harry Potter? Or even worse, the red-headed Weasley? You remember how irresistible she was to you when you were that age. Why would she pick you over her new love, even when her memories return?

At the height of the hallucinations, Severus had managed to control a bout of wandless magic, slitting both of his wrists open. The alarms had alerted the nurses, who had rushed in and patches him up despite his screams begging them to let him die. The magic had been so raw, that it had torn the flesh, rather than cutting it, leaving jagged scars after it was healed.

However, the worst eventually passed and Severus rode out the rest of his stay in St Mungo's without further incidents. Eventually the headaches and the vomiting faded, he was able to eat solid foods again, and though he didn't believe that it would, the cravings started to fade.

More often than not, he still would have preferred to face reality drunk, rather than sober. However, the twitch of his hand reaching for the neck of a bottle faded. The dryness of his throat that he knew nothing else would quench disappeared. And he was able to sleep without being blackout drunk. Now he only had to find a way to cope with his life.

Minerva had picked him up from the hospital when it was time for him to leave. They had gone to her summer home. He smiled pleasantly, but the house held so many memories, much like his rooms at Hogwarts. One night over dinner, he asked her.

"How do you do it?"

She knew exactly what he was asking.

"I remember the good. All the love and joyous memories," she said, smiling fondly. "She's not dead Severus, quit acting like she's never coming home."

"And what if she no longer loves me?" He asked, wincing at the vulnerability he was showing. "I know what they call me. The greasy bat of the dungeon."

"Severus Snape," she snapped, startling him. "I've never considered you a fool, but at this moment, you’re acting like one. That girl is crazy about you. You two were meant for each other."

Severus nodded quietly, still nursing his insecurities, but warmed by the assurance of someone who just might know his wife slightly better than him.

"Now, when we get back to Hogwarts, you're going to come have tea with me at least once a week. Hermione used to come have tea with me and I miss it. So, humor an old woman."

Severus agreed, seeing through the ploy for what it was, a way to keep closer tabs on him. Just maybe though, they really did need each other to get through these years.

Before they knew it, it was time to return to Hogwarts.


	6. One of the Weasleys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the comments on the last chapter! Those kind of things are always hard to write - difficult to be mean to character’s invested in, but sometimes necessary for good story telling.
> 
> On to a little bit of Hermione side of things!

** July 1992 **

The wind from the open window whipped at her tangled mass of hair relentlessly, until she pulled it back into a rough ponytail, so that she could see where they were going. The Ford Anglia flew through the air about as well as it drove on the road, continuious and bumpy turbulance causing her stomach to twist uncomfortably, as they flew over Surry. Despite her insistance on being able to see, she felt it didn’t help much as the twins steered the car close to the rooftops now, so they could catch glimpses of the road signs below.

She had been just as worried as the twins and Ron when they hadn’t gotten any responses back from Harry to their letters. During the last week, she had caught the three boys huddled together speaking in hushed tones, and keeping a look out for the other occupants of the house.

Ginny had just rolled her eyes at the three and ignored them, prefering to chat with her new sister about her first year of Hogwarts and what to expect. Even though Hermione enjoyed the younger girls company and enthusiasm for her first year of Hogwarts, she still kept an eye on the boys.

It wasn’t that difficult for her to figure out what they were planning. They weren’t quite as subtle as they thought they were. She had been dressed and downstairs by the front door when they had snuck down from there rooms that night. Rather than try and argue with her, which they had learned was pointless earlier in the summer, had quietly accepted her presance on, “Mission: Rescue Harry”.

Fred steered the car into a steep dive and twist movement, pulling the passenger side up along side the second story window of a house that looked the exact same as a dozen other on the block. Hermione’s stomach swooped again and her dinner threatened to make a reapperance, but she gasped as they stabilized next to a window with bars on the outside. 

Moments later, a familiar face with dark messy hair and green eyes appeared in the window. 

Throwing up the window, he hissed out into the night, “What are you doing here?”

“Why rescuing you of course,” Ron insisted with a crooked smile.

“Oh no, we’re too late Fred,” George exclaimed. “He’s gone brain dead.”

“Poor lout doesn’t recognize a rescue when it hits him like a flying car in face,” Fred agreed.

From the backseat, Hermione smacked Fred on the shoulder in amused affection.

“Let me take the wheel you dolt,” she insisted. “You help George get him.”

“Grab your trunk Harry!” Ron urged him.

“They locked it in the cupboard down stairs,” Harry replied, while watching George attach a metal hook to the bars that were bolted to the outside of his window.

“Well, at least step clear so we can get this off,” Fred insisted.

Moments later, Hermione drove the car to the end of the rope, and as quietly as she could, gave it gas until the bars pulled free of the building. Fred and George worked quickly to pull up the rope so that the heavy metal grate didn’t crash to the ground, as Hermione flew the car around up to the window again. 

Quickly taking charge, Hermione ordered, “Fred and George, go help Harry get his trunk. And don’t try and tell me that you don’t know how to pick locks the muggle way.”

They both gave her a wounded look before climbing out the car window and into Harry’s tiny bedroom.

“Harry, let Hedwig out and send her to the Burrow. And Ron, pack up Hedwig’s cage,” she directed.

Once Ron was free of the car, she backed it up slowly so he could load the cage into the boot. Fred and George had already managed to get the lock on the bedroom door and were following Harry downstairs. Hermione watched the windows she could see in the houses around them, looking for any lights suddenly flipping on. So far, they hadn’t made too much noise, the grinding as the grate broke free of rhe house, the most, but the longer the car was running in the neighbour hood, the more likely it would wake someone and they would get caught.

It was too long before she felt the weight on Harry’s truck shoved into the boot and the latch carelessly slammed shut by Ron. She watched in horror as a light in one of the upstairs rooms at number 4 Private Drive flicked on, followed by the annoyed roar of a large man. She quickly pulled the side of the car up to the window as all three red heads tried to push through at the same time.

“Hurry you dolts,” she insisted as they finally realized the space was too small for more than one at a time.

Ron and George had managed to get back into the vehicle, and Fred was halfway out the window when there was loud banging on Harry’s door and another shout. Harry took the window at a flying leap, grabbing onto Fred and George by the arms, as the door burst inward. Taking that as a sign to go, Hermione reved the engine, no longer afraid of being seen after all the noise the Dursleys had made, and took to the clouds.

Once Harry was pulled into the car and the red-heads settled, Fred took over the wheel from Hermione.

“Where’d you learn to drive,” Fred exclaimed, a hysterical edge of fear in his voice from their quick escape.

“I’m muggle-born remember,” she reminded. “I grew up watching my parents drive.”

“Well, I’d rather mum murder us, than get you in trouble, so I’ll take it from here,” Fred explained.

“We’ll just blame Ron, if we’re caught anyways,” George insisted, cheerfully.

Hermione and Harry laughed while Ron sputtered in irritation as the car soared up and away, headed back to the Burrow.Hermione just shook her head, knowing one way or another, Mrs. Weasley would notice Harry suddenly showing up at the Burrow.

——-——————-

The room she shared in the Burrow with Ginny, was on the fourth floor. On the same floor as Ron’s room (which he was currently sharing with Harry), one floor above the Twins, and one floor below the nearest bathroom, and two floors below Molly and Arthur’s room.

The way the house was stacked up, with additions magically added on as the family expanded, the majority of sound above the first floor, seemed to drift upwards instead of down. She’d noticed that she chould hear the twins pretty well beyond low conversations, and the same for the boy’s room, when in the bathroom, with still some echos of sound from the twins. Hermione wasn’t sure if that was just the unintentional design of the house, or an interesting bit of magic the Weasley’s had managed. She’d have to remember to ask about it sometime. She’s sure it had been Molly had known they had snuck out on the night the rescued Harry, and had to have been out the door, moments behind them.

The twins were currently confined to theirrooms until the start of term, with the exception of dinner, bathroom, and the trip to Diagon Alley shortly before they caught the train. Ron had gotten off with a few extra dinner dishes shifts, and Harry and herself had gotten away with it. Harry mostly because he was the rescuee. Hermione was sure that she was just too new to the family for them to feel comfortable punishing her. 

She tried not too think about it too much, but memories of her parents continued to come up when things like that happened. Hermione was still struggling with adapting to the loss and was dreading the upcoming anniversary. The Burrow still didn’t feel like home to her, but the house she grew up in had stopped feeling like him. She had a weird ache in her chest when she considered it. In a way, Hogwarts felt most like home to her already, but not entirely. Either way, she missed it and was ready to go back.

The Weasleys had been great, truely treating her like one of their own instead of a temperary guest, as much as they could. Arther was friendly and very observant, he had stopped asking her to explain muggle stuff after he noticed that she got a far off look everytime he did, even though she was more than willing to indulge his curiousity. Molly was warm and welcoming, teaching her some of the basics of running a magical household. Percy was aloof, per his typical for the family, locked away in his room studying. Despite Hermione’s thirst for knowledge and ability to hold academic conversations above her year, he had turned up his nose at her early attempts to engage him in conversations. The twins assured her that it was just regular Percy, he’d always had a rather large stick up his rear.

The twins themselves had been the closest to her over the summer. They had let her in on some of their schemes and planning. Fred had showed her some of his plans for various prank devices he had been developing, the schematics and developed spellwork, while George shared some of his personal potion recipes. She had quickly realized that they were brilliant, hidden behind their prankster ways. Each had their own specialties, which when combined made an explosive combination, sometimes literally. Hermione had been able to snag some of their research materials, they’d collected a small library on experimental charms, transfiguration, and potions that she devoured quickly. After that, she had reviwed the work again, making slight suggestions on one or two designs for stronger results.

On the other hand, Ron and her hadn’t really gotten along as well as they had when Harry had been part of their trio. The brash young red-head had little use for enthusiasm and school driven mind. They argued about summer reading and review assignments in preperation for the new year. He mostly wanted to ear, play chess or exploding snap, or get out in the yard on hos broom with the twins for a practice game. Her fear of flying only made him more annoyed at her, as he was even less interested in including Ginny in their Quidditch games, his ego too fragile to handle being outflown by his younger sister. 

However, now that Harry was around again, their little group was meshing together a lot better. Harry and Ron would go out flying most days, throwing the quaffle around a bit, unable to play a game, since the twins were confined to their room. Then, they would play some chess while Hermione read. Eventually, she would talk Harry into doing some studying and year preperations, while Ron would grudgingly join in.

———————

Ginny was bouncing with excitement as they walked down Diagon Alley, her new wand in hand curtosy of Ollivander. Hermione still couldn’t shake the weird look that the old wand maker had given her, as she stood beside the excited young ginger. Now she walked, deep in thought and fingering the twisted, yet smooth design of her vinewood wand in her pocket.

Diagon Alley, as it was now, was at once familiar and strangely different. She had only been to the wizarding district once the previous year when her parents have taken her to get get supplies and materials for the school year, so the weird familiarity felt off, but she brushed it and Ollivander’s glance off as they turned towards the bookshop.

Wizards and witches were pushing up against each other, trying to shove their way into what appeared to be any already full shop. The entire Weasley clan managed to slip in between groups, to be confronted by the large smiling face of a handsome blond wizard. However, this face was everywhere, as several large banners and signs hung from the cealing and stacks of books were arranged to show the back cover of books, with the same picture that occasionally winked while smiling at them. And to top it all off the wizard himself was front and center, in the middle of a crowd of women, smiling so wide, his cheeks had to be aching. 

Before anyone could do anything, the smiling man had spotted Harry, swooping down on him like a vulture on it’s prey and dragging him back to the center stage. He introduced himself as Gilderoy Lockhart, raving in about Harry’s celebrity and smiling that large obnoxious smile as several camera flashes went off.

Ron laughed at Harry’s obvious discomfort in front of the large crowds, but Hermione meerly rolled her eyes at the display, inwardly cringing at his announcement that he would be their new defense instructor. She had stumbled onto one of his books in the library the previous year, and found his non-fictional adventure to feel quite fictional and poorly written if she did say so herself. While she had to admire hos dental hygine, she found the perpetually smiling wizard to not really be her type, though many witches obviously flocked to and admired the man. 

Leaving Harry to his fate, she slipped away from the crowd and into the stacks. She gently ran her fingertips along the spines of the books, skimming the titles. Stopping briefly in the potions section, shepulled a large leather bound volume titled Unconventional Cures from the shelf and slowly flipped through a few pages. 

She heard the sound of footsteps behind her and assumed it was one of the boys coming to see where she had wandered off to, and ignored them, flipping another page. 

“You might want to reconsider sneaking off alone, Granger.”

With a sigh, she reshelved the book and turned to face the snide, blond standing behind her. Before she could even respond, Harry and Ron hurried up beside her.

“What do you want, Malfoy?” Harry snarled, the usually kindhearted boy’s voice filled with venom.

“Always have to be at the center of attention, huh scarhead?  Can’t even go into a book shop without making the front page . And for what, because your mummy and daddy were too stupid to not get murdered,” Draco sneared.

“Shut it, Malfoy” Ron growled.

“Ah, and the Weasley speaks up. It’s this place too expensive for your family? The  used book shop is down the road,” Draco said, chuckling at his own joke.

Hermione reached out and grabbed onto the back of Ron’s shirt at the same time Harry did, keeping the red-head from launching himself at the blond.

“Making friends already I see, Draco,” an older blond gentleman sneered as he approched. “Ah, Arthur, they let you out of the Ministry these days?  Busy time I hear, all those raids.”

The trio turned to look behind then briefly, seeing that the elder Weasley, Ginny, and the twins had walked up behind them.

Lucius Malfoy stood behind his son, glaring at the group assymbled in the small area between tall store shelves. The Weasleys were easy to identify by their bright red hair. Potter by his glasses and scar. He assumed that the bushy brunette was the third of the trio Draco had talked about, the mudblood, Harmony or something like that. Looking over her features, he thought she looked familiar, but couldn’t really place her. 

Hermione shivered as his pale grey eyes landed on her. Her skin crawled when he surveyed her. There was something errily familiar about him and she wracked her brain trying to figure out where she might have seen him before, if at all. Finally, she shrugged it off, just assuming he seemed familiar because she went to school with his son, who looked much like his father.

“Lucius,” Arthur greeted stiffly, refusing to rise to the bait.

** “I hope they’re paying you overtime?” ** Malfoy Sr queried inspecting Ginny’s second hand books,  ** “obviously not. Dear me, what’s the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don’t even pay you well for it?” **

** “We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy,”  ** Arthur replied cooly, his tone colder than any Hermione had heard from the jolly wizard since moving in with them.

“Lucius,” an elegant blond woman with a nasty smirk called. “Draco. We need to go.”

Both Malfoy’s sneered once more, but didn’t bother with parting words before turning to stalk off.

“Well, at least we know he comes by it honestly,” Fred said with a shrug.

“Malfoy’s come by anything honestly?” George scoffed. “Never.”

—-————————

** September 1, 1992 **

Gingerly, Hermione Granger stepped up to the pillar between platforms 9 and 10. With a deep breath, pushing past the mental resistance pushing up against her, she forced herself to put one foot in front of the other and step forward onto the platform. 

As she stepped into the light again, she breathed out. The world didn’t spin, nor did time stop or reverse. She watched the Weasley twins move forward pushing their carts towards the train, hollaring at friends. A single tear streaked down her face as she pushed forward again, walking towards the train with her cart.

She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but that feeling of unease, boarderline fear had cropped up. The last time she had passed through the barrier to get on the train, she lost time, had woken up in confusion in the Headmasters office at Hogwarts, and had shortly after found out that her parents had died in a house fire, on the day she started school. 

It had been a lot to take in and deal with at eleven, and not particularly easier a year later. It was a bitter sweet moment, the excitement of going back to Hogwarts, mingled with the pain of the anniversary of her parent’s deaths. She swiped away a second tear and took a deep breath before moving with determination towards the train.

One of the older students stood by the train, helping some of the younger students lift their trunks on board. She softly thanked the young man and took his offered hand as she climbed aboard. Taking control of her trunk once more, she dragged it down the train until she recognized other Gryffindors in the surrounding compartments and snagged an empty one. 

Shutting the door behind her, she yanked the curtin down on the door window before collapsing onto the bench, head in her hands as tears streamed down her face. She stiffled a hiccoping sob, trying to bring herself back under control. The click of the compartment door startled her and she quickly tryed to wipe away the tears, expecting Harry and Ron. Hermione had encouraged Ginny to look for other first years to start creating bonds with others her age, so it wouldn’t be her coming to join.

“Sorry Hermione, didn’t realize you were in here. Can I join you?” Neville asked, a soft, friendly smile on his face.

“Of course, Neville,” Hermione insisted smiling, while still wiping away the evidance of her breakdown. “I’m just waiting for Harry and Ron, but there is plenty of room.”

“Thanks,” he said, pulling his trunk into the compartment and lifting it up into the overhead container. Turning to look at her, he asks gently, “Would you like me to get yours too?”

“Oh yeah,” she said. “Thank you. I forgot it.”

Stuggling a little, as he had with her own, the twelve year old boy lifted the trunk into the compartment alongside his own, breathing heavily from the exertion.

“Your welcome,” he replied, sitting down in the seat across from her. With a seriousness on his face, he reached out and gently gripped her hand. “Are you alright?”

Looking into his gentle and open face, she replied, “Honestly, not really.”

He nodded knowingly and just held her hand for a moment longer. 

“If you need to, I can leave. Or you can pretend I’m not here. Or you can talk if you want,” he offered before retreating to his own space.

She just nodded, leaning into the window, withdrawling into her mind. The train started to move away from the platform and briefly, she wondered where the boys were or what kind of trouble they got into, but her thoughts pulled her back under as the landscape passed by.

“Sometimes, I can’t even imagine they’re gone,” she admitted quietly, after more than an hour of silence.

Neville nodded knowingly. “It gets easier eventually With time,” he sighed, “lots of time.”

Hermione looked up at the boy across from her, reading the hurt in his face.

“I’m sorry Neville. I didn’t know,” she said softly.

“It’s alright. I don’t talk about it much, but my gran pretty much raised me,” he said. “I’m sorry that you lost them. I remember it was really hard on you last year. Anniversaries are always hard too.”

“I’m finding that out,” she admitted. “I’m sorry to bring you down too.”

“It’s alright,” he assured her. “And if you ever need someone to talk to, that understands, I’m here for you.”

“Thank you.”

They sat in silence until the train pulled into the station at Hogsmade. She waited in silence as students bustled past in the hallway outside the compartment, not willing to fight through the crowd. Neville stood slowly after a few mintues and pulled her trunk down for her, setting it between the seats, before pullings his own down.

“I’ll see you up there then,” he said, smiling at her, before turning and lugging his trunk out into the hallway.

As the noise in the hallway died down, she sighed and grabbed the handle on the trunk, pulling it behind her and off of the train. Piling her trunk with the others on the platform, she turned and followed the older students over to the pathway leading to the castle in the distance.

As she approched, she gasped softly, to see the large, black skeletal beasts harnessed in front each carriage in the line. A pair for each carriage restlessly pawed the ground as they waited for the students to pile in before starting up the path to the castle looming ahead. None of the other students around her seemed to balk at the creatures, so she accepted it as normal, since she didn’t remember arriving at school her first year.

Looking around briefly, she didn’t see Harry or Ron in the crowd. They didn’t seem to have waited for her, so she moved forward, climbing into the back of one of the carriages with a group of older Hufflepuffs who greeted her with smiles before returning to their conversation. The road melted away under the paws of the black creatures and before she knew it, she was stepping down and making her way up the stairs and into the great hall with the rest of the students.

A quick look down the Gryffindor table, and without seeing the familiar shock of black and then red hair of her duo of friends, she started to get worried. Stepping back out into the entry hall, off to the side of the big open area, Professor Flitwick stood levitating trunks off of the last couple of carriages, into the hall for them to be sorted and sent up to dormitories.

“Professor Flitwick,” Hermione said, as she approched the diminutitive professor.

“Yes, Miss Granger?” He asked politely.

“I haven’t seen Harry and Ron sincebefore we got on the platform and they aren’t in the hall. I’m worried about them,” she explained.

“Oh dear,” he exclaimed. “I’ll let Headmaster know. We’ll figure out where those two got off to. Go on in and get a seat.”

Hermione once again entered the great hall, walking along the table to take a seat with her dormmates and boys her year. She watched the head table, seeing Lockharts perpetually smiling face, and Professor Flitwick approching from the edge of the hall, stopping to briefly talk to Dumbledore before taking his seat. Professor McGonagall wasn’t seated, but she knew from experiance that the Gryffindor Head of House was waiting with the first years for sorting. 

Professor Snape was glaring down from the head table as well, but Flitch hurried up to the table, whispering in his ear and causing the dark Potion Master to sweep out of the hall, mere moments before the first years were led in. 

Hemione just sighed and settled in for the sorting, safe in the knowledge that trouble had found her friends.


	7. What Makes A Home?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any guesses as to what Hermione’s animagus form is? Or Severus’? Answers coming down the road!
> 
> Shorter chapter, but needed.

** December 1992 **

“What is it Poppy?” Severus asked as he hurried into the Hospital Wing.

Poppy Pomfrey was over against the far well, feeding Gregory Goyle a headache potion to help relieve the effects of the incapacitating potion that he had somehow ingested. Crabe was in the bed next to him, still knocked out. As their head of house, Snape had already been informed when they had been found stuffed in a closet an hour ago. He doubted that Poppy would have called him down here for that.

“One second, let me finish up here with Mr. Goyle,” Poppy confirmed, passing him a second potion flask.

By the color of the potion, Severus identified it contained something to settle the boy’s stomach, a small mental bucket in his lap showing that he had already had issues holding his stomach. Snape mused that it was a rather nasty potion that had been used, since there were milder and easier to brew potions that would have knocked someone out. 

“Alright, Severus, this way,” Poppy said, leading him down to the far bed, with the curtain pulled. “It’s not going to be easy”

Snape quirked a brow, but followed to the end of the ward and let her preceed him inside the curtained area. Quickly, he coughed to cover the laugh that immediatly bubbled up. Despite the fact that she was covered in black fur, with bright yellow eyes, he could tell by the underlying structure of her face, that he was looking at Hermione.

“Uhm ... Miss Granger, how did you manage this?” Severus asked, trying to mask his smile with his hand.

He already had an idea what had happened, but if she was willing to confess to it, it would be easier to counter it. There were really only a couple of logical ways this could have happened. Unlike a patronus, an animagus form couldn’t change. Since he knew her animagus form wasn’t a cat, even with it was highly unlikely she’d managed close to a partial transformation, this wouldn’t have been the result.

“Umm,” she hesitated.

She obviously was unwilling to out her friends and their plot if he could still read her facial expressions accurately. He was pretty sure that he had figured out how Vincent and Gregory had ended up stuffed in a storage closet one the main level and were talking above stuffing their faces with floating cupcakes. The intensity of the potion used to knock them out, made more sense now, she had always had a more sadistic edge to her pranks when they were in school. He was just surprised to find out that it hadn’t been his influence that had triggered it. 

“Simply put Miss Granger, I’m pretty sure you and your little friends used polyjuice. Obviously in your case, it didn’t go so well. However, if this is not the case and I treat for polyjuice, things could get worse. In the same case, if it is polyjuice and I treat for something else, then it gets worse. So, now, what ... did ... you ... do?” He explained, an intemidating sneer on his face as he emphasised the point by punctuating each final word.

She ducked her head, yellow eyes turned to the floor. Her fur covered finger, tipped with sharp nails, twisting around each other. The tip of her tail, which was free due to her laying partially on her side, flicked back and fourth. He let a small smirk free, only briefly. 

“Polyjuice, sir,” she answered, her voice small, before admiting, “I accidently used cat hair instead of human hair.”

“Of course,” he observed.

He turned to speak to Poppy just as Minerva pushed her way through the curtain.

“Oh my,” Minerva exclaimed, as she laid eyes on the fur covered Hermione Granger, immediately covering her mouth with her hand.

Severus saw the edges of the silent laugh, turning fully away from the student before letting his own mirth silently free briefly.

“I’ll get working on the cure, Poppy. It requires several potions however, so it will take roughly a week to complete,” Severus explained before pushing his way past the curtains and out of the Hospital Wing.

———-——————

They had needed to keep Miss Granger into the Christmas holidays before they could get the potions made to cure her, so in support, the whole Weasley group had stayed as well. Severus was slightly suspicious that every time he checked in on the girl, the Weasley twins could be found keeping her company, while also seeming to be constantly taking notes while they spoke, but even his stealth and heightened hearing couldn’t get close enough to see what they were up to before they noticed him. While the twins we mediocre to lack-luster students, they were excellent wizards. George tended to be the better brewer, but he’d heard talk in the teachers lounge that some of Fred’s spell work was spectacular. If those two would put their mind to school work, they be considered quite gifted.

However, they wouldn’t even reach a fraction of the talent his Hermione had. Even without Severus there challenging her, she had managed to brew an excellent polyjuice potion, an assumption since neither of her likely accomplices had needed medical attention. As a second year. They hadn’t had need of it in his tome, but even despite their interest in pushing the limts of their abilities to the test, they hadn’t tried it. Severus would say he was shocked, but he had long ago learned to never underestimate her.

It had taken five different types potions to reverse the effects of the use of animal hair in the polyjuice, one of which was a potion that was occasionally used in animagus training to help the human body associate with an animal’s body to ease the transition. After three days, and several dosings of the potions to reverse the effects. We wasn’t entirely sure she would return to the exact same way she had been before, but the exteriour features had been reversed.

Since he was free of the need to be brewing for the infirmary, he decided that it was time to take the trip that Minerva had suggested earlier in the year, during one of his visits for tea.

Taking the time to bundle himself in his warmest winter garb, he left the Castle around midday, starting the long trek to the gates. His nose was numb and his cheeks slightly windburnt by the time he hit the gates, despite the warming charm he had spun around him. Otherwose, however, he was perfectly comfortable. 

Just outside the the boundry of the wards, the tall, dark wizard spun on his heel and disapperated with a soft pop.

He reappeared near the north western coast of Scotland, on a snow covered walkway leading up to a medium sized, two-story stone built home. A large greenhouse can be seen of to the side and behind the house. Snow covered the entire property, which was mostly several aches of pasture land, with a small stand of trees on the south end, with a half-size fence forming a yard around the house and greenhouse. During the summer months, assorted flowers would litter the base of the home, but with the winter, the beds were covered and settled under a layer of snow. 

The house was obviously vacant, the snow heavy on the roof, not melting with the heat of the home. The windows were closed and shuttered, no light peeking from within. And the chimney was free if smoke, and long cold. 

Slowly, he trugged through the snow, making his way to the door. The touch of of his plam against the door, and it swung gently inward. As he crossed the threshold, Severus could feel Hermione’s magic in the wards and spells woven into the home. Briefly, he felt her magic like her hand, gently caressing the side of his face and he tipped his head up slightly at the sensation. All too quickly it was gone, just the familiar hum of her magic around him. 

For the first time since stepping into the home, he looked around. The interiour was well kept, their house elf, Pip, having been taking care of the needs of the home, but it still felt unused. As he looked around, he noticed gaps in the bookcases, where her personal journals had lived, bare surfaces where magical photos and various objects had lived. The place had been stripped of her possessions, much like his quarters, from the living room they had shared many nights reading together, to the bedroom where they had made love.

In her study, he found the answer to the question of where her posessions had gone. As he approached the door, he could feel her magic urging him back, but when he persisted, the magic admitted him to the room. Within, the room looked much like it had the last time they had been there together, parchment and quills strewn across the desk, a bookcase filled with her journals and ancient rune translations. The only difference was the wall of crates on one side of the room, packed with the things she had removed from their rooms at Hogwarts and the house.

Gently, he ran his hand over the surfaces of the room. The feeling of her magic was stronger in her room, and he thought he could still faintly smell her scent in the air. He fingered the quills on the desk, the feathers tattered by her constant fiddling while she thought. A half-finished translation on a parchment, held down by the weight of the book she had been referencing. Turning his attention to the shelf, he stopped suddenly, when a photo of them on their wedding day, Hermione laughing before leaning in to kiss him passionately playing over and over. Warmth blossomed within his chest at seeing her as she had been as his wife. 

His hand twitched to grab the frame and take it with him, but he stopped himself. Severus, with his heart in his throat, shoved his hand in his chest pocket, where her ring had lived since that first night. Breathing deeply, one last time, he turned from the room, slamming the door behind him. Tears streamed donw his face as he leaned against the door. 

Snape hated to admit it, but she had been right. It was harder to face the fact that he would have to return to the world without her, after even briefly being surrounded by reminders of her. The ring in his pocket was the only thing he would keep of her, to help him get through it. Sweeping back through the house, he briefly eyed the sidebar, set against the wall in the living room, filled with liquor. 

Stopping, he considered the amber bottles of liquor standing atop the bar. It had been seven months since he’d had a drink, and his finger twitched briefly in the direction of the bar, before he brought himself under control and stode out the front door. As the door closed behind Severus, he reached out with his magic feeling the power of the wards, surrounding the house. All of their protection wards seemed to be in place and holding strong. Additionally, the fidelius charm that had established imediately after purchasing the home held tight, their combined magic humming throughout the wards, wrapping them all into a tight, impenatrable wall over the property, shielding the buildings from view of all, but a select few.

Satisfied that everything would hold for years to come, he wrapped his black cloak tightly around him. Striding to the outside of their anti-apperation wards, he looked once more at the house.

The lack of holiday decorations inside and out had contributed to the house feeling like it had been abandoned. The first few years of their friendship, her enthusisam and need to celebrate the holidays to the fullest had annoyed him greatly, since his family had never really had money, or in his father’s case, the inclaniation to give presents. She had insisted on spoiling him for Christmas from their very first year at Hogwarts, while he’s been unable to get anything for her. After a few years, he had gotten used to it, and in recent years, shared in her enthusiasm. 

A quick flick of his wand, and twinkling, blue icicle lights hung from the roof ledge. Then, Severus spun and disapeared, back to Hogwarts, intent that he wouldn’t again set foot in the home they had made together, until he had her back.


	8. Nightmare Relapse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I meant to post this last night, but fell asleep while doing a final edit and format on this chapter. Here it is though. Enjoy!

** March 1993 **

"Severus," Minerva exclaimed, bursting into his classroom, pausing only when she saw that he had two students in detention, scrubbing cauldrons.

Snape looked up from his stack of essays, blanching at the grave look on the older witch's face.

"Detention is over," he snapped.

The two students instantly dropped the cauldrons and scurried out of the room, past the Gryffindor Head of House. No one was willing to question getting out of detention sooner than expected.

"What's wrong, Minerva?" Snape asked, sweeping across the room to hold her steady.

"It's Hermione," she whispered, "she's been petrified."

Severus let out his pent-up breath. He had heard the stories and knew that the previous time Slytherin’s monster had been released, a girl had died, while others had only been petrified. Even though petrification was a serious condition, it was better than death. His relief was short lived as the severity of the situation descended.

He ushered McGonagall to his chair, sitting her down, while flicking his wand at the door to lock and ward it. His heart was pounding and all he wanted to do was rush to Hermione's side, but he knew he couldn't. Instead, he helped to calm Minerva, helping himself in the process.

"Breathe," he told the witch. "Hermione is going to be okay. Pomona's mandrakes look good. I was just down in the greenhouses checking on them today. Where was she found?"

"Outside the library with Miss Clearwater. They both seemed to be looking through a mirror at the time," the witch answered.

"Smart girl," Snape muttered.

The staff had their guesses about what was behind the attacks. Most assumed a monster like the basilisk, the most likely, given Slytherin's penchant for snakes. How to stop the creature, who was behind it, and where the blasted thing was hiding were still unanswered questions.

Dumbledore, in his infinite wisdom, had decided to keep these things from the student body, insisting on wand oaths from the staff. Even with the old wizard gone from the castle, they were still bound by the oath.

As Deputy Headmistress, Minerva had instituted curfew and encouraged students to travel in groups or at least in pairs. It wasn't much, but it had been better than nothing. The board of governors still stood in the way of sending the students home.

"What are we going to do Severus?" Minerva asked.

He sighed heavily, the concern weighing on him too. Hermione had been in the hospital wing this year already, and now she would be spending most of the next few months there. He had to smile briefly though, as he would never let her live down the cat incident once she was back to her normal self.

"We are going to keep the students safe the best we can. It's all we can do," he muttered. "Now let's go be with her. It's after curfew, so no questions will be raised.

The pair made their way to the hospital wing, taking up vigil beside the girl. Snape sat in a chair by her bedside, holding her hand between his two much larger ones. She was as cold and as hard as stone, no signs of life beneath his fingers.

After a while, Minerva departed, leaving him alone with her. The quiet of the hospital wing was oppressive at that time of night, but for the first time since she left him, he was alone with her. Tears dripped down his face and he clutched her frozen hand like a lifeline. In the darkness, alone but for her, he let himself go.

"I miss you," Severus admitted to the darkness. "Oh, how I miss you. So much it bloody hurts."

He paused briefly, as if giving her time to respond.

"I never thought you'd actually leave me," he conceded. "Even though we knew it was a possibility. Even with Dumbledore ranting and raving about the greater good. I didn't think that you would leave me. Not with everything going on in our life."

Another pause.

"But you did. You left me. Without really any warning even. And I was furious for so long. At Dumbledore too, but at you most of all."

More pausing.

"But I finally realized that you didn't really have a choice. You never had a choice. Not when you tumbled back into my timeline originally. And not now. You did what was needed of you. You did what our world needed."

Pause.

"It's one of the things I love about you."

It was then that he really broke down. Tears and snot streamed down his face as he sobbed into his elbow, trying to muffle the sounds, so as not to draw the attention of the mediwitch.

Severus Snape was dry-eyed and composed once again as light started to filter into the ward. Poppy was just emerging from her chambers as he swept out of the hospital wing.

—————————

A week had passed with no new information, but also no new attacks. Harry and Ron took turns sitting with Hermione between classes when they could. And Severus had spent each night by her side, refusing to leave.

If there were other occupants in the hospital wing, aside from the petrified patients, Madam Pomfrey would simply draw a curtain around Hermione's bed. However, few students made excuses to go to the hospital wing, the beds filled with their frozen friends were too much to handle.

Most nights, Severus spoke to Hermione. Not the de-aged 13-year-old in the bed, but his Hermione. Sometimes it was trivial things, things they would talk about at the end of their days when she had been a teacher with him. Other times, he opened up, baring his soul, discussing his struggles. That night was no different.

"So, Pomona, says the mandrakes should be ready to harvest later this week," he told her. "Once they are ready, I can start making the restorative draught and bring you all back to us."

"It's really a screwed-up process," he admitted. "They're ugly little buggers, but they look vaguely human. Chopping them into little pieces and stewing them is a little disturbing."

Pause.

"I know Herbology was never your favorite subject. You were good at it, like you were at every subject. And you weren't afraid to get dirty. But you never really cared for it.

"Though, you preferred it to Divination. Merlin you hated that class. You are the sweetest, most tolerant person I know, but Trelawney always got on your last nerve.

"Ancient Runes though. You are phenomenal, a genius in your field," he said, a slight grin on his face as he remembered.

—————————-

** January 1978 **

It had taken him three months to arrange everything. The ancient runes portion had taken him the longest to work out, it had always been her subject.

This was their last year at Hogwarts, not only NEWTs, but also the real-world looming on the horizon. The world, as it was, was dark.

Many of his Slytherin friends had joined up with the Death Eaters. Lord Voldemort cut an impressive figure, all charming smiles and promises of a better world for the magical community. No more fear of muggles. There was a part of Severus Snape that saw the appeal of his new world view. He knew that in another life, he would have been ensnared by the darkness.

In this life though, one Hermione McGonagall had saved him. They had been together since the Halloween Ball in their third year. Somehow, she had seen beyond the broken, skinny boy from a bad neighborhood, and he was glad that she had.

Severus Snape had grown into himself a bit. His hair was still long and dark, but thanks to a potion she had helped him create, it didn't look quite as lanky or greasy. While he was still thin, it was more a lean strength, rather than a gangly, awkwardness. Hermione had fixed his teeth for him back in third year. And best of all, he had finally grown into his nose. While it was still on the larger size, it wasn't prominent to the point of distraction. Even though, he didn't consider himself handsome in the traditional sense, he didn't think he looked too bad.

Though, his self-image had improved, he knew he was still way out of her league. With that in mind, he was determined to do everything he could to keep her.

As always, he found her at their table in the library. She was slender, tall enough that she fit nicely against his body, her head tucked under his chin. Her soft brown hair fell in gently waves, framing her face, with natural honey colored highlights. Amber eyes lit up when she smiled, her whole face radiating happiness.

It was that smile she bestowed on him as he approached her, sitting in his usual spot.

"Hey Severus," she greeting him, leaning over to give him a gentle peck on the cheek.

He returned her greeting, settling in to his seat and pulling a stack of papers from his bag. Watching her out of the corner of his eye, and noting that she had gone back to her book, he tossed down his quill dramatically. Stray ink splattered across the page.

With a wave of her hand, the stray ink disappeared. She turned her attention to him, taking in his disgruntled expression.

"What is the problem?" She asked gently, placing her hand on his arm.

"These blasted equations aren't working. The runes aren't right," he explained.

"Alright," she said, "let me take a look."

She dragged the pile of papers over to her, flipping through the pages, checking the arithmancy equations and the rune translations. A confused frown crossed her features as she dug deeper. Beside her, Severus nervously palmed the small box in the pocket of his robes.

"So, what are these equations for?" She asked. "These runes represent love, life, fulfillment, and promises on their own. Plugged into the equation, it looks like you're trying to determine a specific outcome, the answer to a question."

Sitting silently, he waited, as she flipped through more pages. The furrow of her brow started to soften. Lovingly, he watched her as she figured it out.

The equations he had constructed were trying to predict the possibility of her saying yes to a specific question. The runes the input for the equations, showing their love, a long life of fulfillment and happiness.

Hermione looked up at him, with tears building on the brim of her eyes, silently asking if this is what she thinks it is. Severus was ready for her, confidently pulling the ring box out of his pocket and getting down on one knee beside her.

Looking deep into her eyes, he presents the box, opening it gently to reveal a small silver ring, with small rectangular gems, an emerald and a ruby set end to end. Her eyes drift from his, down to the ring. A startled gasp escaped her as she marveled as how perfect the ring was for them. Her eyes dart back to his, and she notices the large smile on his face.

"So, what do you think the odds are of you saying yes?" Severus asked.

She smiled gently and played along.

"Pretty good I'd say," she answered. "I guess he just has to ask."

"Hermione McGonagall, would you do me the honor of allowing me to be your husband?" He asked, gently pulling the ring from its place in the box, holding it out to her.

"Yes," she answered happily, holding her hand out to receive the ring. "Always and forever yes!"

With a wide smile upon his face, he slid the ring onto the third finger of her left hand. Clasping her hand within his own, he leaned in to gently kiss her on the lips. She returned the chaste kiss, leaning into him as he pulls her hand into him, pressing it against his chest. He can feel the tears streaming down her face, and he breaks away, moving in to kiss away the tears.

The odd display of public affection on his part caused her to chuckle lightly. He laughed with her, pulling her into a tight hug, her head tucked under his chin perfectly.

"Thank you," he whispered gently into her hair.

"For what?" She asked.

"For loving me."

——————————

As usual, Severus took up his nightly vigil at Hermione's bedside after curfew, finishing his nightly rounds at the hospital wing. Poppy left him alone. The sleepless nights were starting to show by the dark circles under his eyes, against pale skin. Taking up his nightly watch, he started talking to her again.

"I am still not sure why you picked me," Severus admitted, holding the cold, stone-like hand in the darkness of the hospital wing.

Things hadn't changed much at Hogwarts in the previous couple of days, so he didn't have much to talk about there.

"You had so many options, so many potential suitors, and you picked me. You said yes to me. And that still amazes me," he admitted.

"Our life together has been wonderful. I hope, when you remember me, that you still love me. That you remember our best days. I hope we have time to have more amazing days," he choked out.

———————————-

** June 1978 **

Severus Snape stood tall and proud at the front of their assembled family and friends. He looked splendid in his stark black dress robes, the silk lapels shining in the sunlight, a white chrysanthemum pinned to the left side. Beneath the robe, he sported crisp black slacks and a white button up.

Beside him stood Remus Lupin, looking equally dapper in his dress robes, though his light brown, almost sandy, hair was a mess. He placed a steadying hand on Severus' shoulder, easing the anxious wizard.

The two had become friendly though their mutual friendship with Hermione during their school years. Of all the Marauders, Remus was easily the most reasonable. Their friendship had not stopped the torment from the rest of the gang, but had limited the severity. Now, as members of the Order of the Phoenix, they had grown rather close.

Severus smiled at his friend, thanking him for the reassurance. Suddenly, the music started and the soft conversations that had been taking place among the crowd had died down. Everyone turned towards the back of the group.

The aisle was laced with small bouquets of assorted flowers, in white and cream, on either side, leading up to the small archway, covered in jasmines. This was all laid out on the Hogwarts grounds, the Black Lake sparkling on the background. Then the woman he had been waiting for appeared at the end of the aisle, on her mother's arm. Severus' jaw dropped as he looked in awe at the woman who had somehow agreed to be his wife.

Hermione wore a sleeveless, pure white gown that hugged her torso, glistening, tiny, white beads decorated the bodice. The gown continued down, following the curve of her hips tightly, before flaring slightly at her thighs. The sheer white silk of the gown, mesmerizing him.

Remus nudged the groom hard, breaking him out of his thoughts of throwing her over his shoulder, carting her away, and ripping the dress off her. Severus turned his gaze on his bride's smiling face as she slowly walked toward him. Her hair had just been pulled back loosely, her face lightly done up with make-up. She was simply amazing.

Minerva walked next to her daughter, leading her to her future husband, draped proudly in gold and red dress robes to represent Gryffindor house. When they reached the alter, Minerva pulled Severus into a hug, and said loud enough for everyone attending the wedding to hear.

"If you hurt her, I'll curse you to oblivion."

A light chuckle rippled among the assembled, including the bride and groom. Severus held his soon to be mother-in-law tight and assured her.

"Never in a million years, would I think of making her life anything but bliss."

Satisfied, she left him go, turning to hug her daughter gently before taking her seat in the front row.

Hermione stepped up to the alter, completely ignoring the Ministry officiant, her focus entirely on her soon to be husband. She smiled widely at him. He gently grasped her hands in his own larger ones. Hermione gazed lovingly up at his smiling face, basking in the soft loving look, and the promise of eternal happiness in his endless obsidian eyes. She felt safe in his hands. They easily got lost in each other, the entire world fading away.

The officiant cleared his throat gently, causing the two lovers to blush lightly.

"Marriage is not just the joining of two people. It is a binding of the souls. The connecting of two people in mind, heart, soul, and magic for the rest of eternity. This journey is not undertaken by the faint of heart, but by two people completely and utterly committed to each other."

Turning to Severus, he asked, "Do you promise to love Hermione throughout your lives together? Do you promise to support her in all of her endeavors, to care for her in all the phases of your lives, and to never doubt her commitment to you?"

"Always," Severus answered confidently.

Turning to Hermione, he smiled and asked, "Do you promise to love Severus throughout your lives together? Do you promise to support him in all of his endeavors, to care for him in all the phases of your lives, and to never doubt his commitment to you?"

"Always," Hermione assured him, speaking directly to Severus.

After wrapping a white strip of cloth around their bound hands, the officiant pulled out his wand, waving it gently over them. The cloth glowed with a bright white light, growing to encompass that pair before vanishing, leaving behind a silver band upon Severus' left hand and a new small band next to Hermione's ring. Their magics hummed, weaving and swirling around them as they bound together.

"Now, I am honored to pronounce you husband and wife. Wizard and witch, bound together by love and magic. Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Snape," the officiant announced.

Severus leaned in eagerly, capturing her lips and a passionate kiss. The assembled friends and family applauded the new couple, some of their younger friends hooting and hollering in excitement.

The wedding moved onto the great hall, where the house elves had provided a glorious feast for the newlywed couple and their guests. The after party went long into the night. Members of the Order came and congratulated the couple. Several Gryffindors had cornered Hermione, offering their encouragement and advice, while Severus was speaking with the one Slytherin friends he had invited. Regulus Black clapped him on the shoulder, sincerely congratulating him on marrying an exceptional witch.

Later, Severus had managed to drag Hermione out onto the dance floor, holding her close as they moved to the music.

"Now where did you learn to dance?" Hermione teased him.

"Your mother insisted. She said that no son of hers would look a fool on the dance floor," Severus explained. "I know more styles of dance now than I think I'll ever need."

Hermione chuckled and admitted that she's been submitted to the same treatment years before.

"Besides, I stepped on your toes enough back in third year," he apologized.

They waltzed across the hall for a while, lost in each other.

After a bit, Severus pulled her close and whispered in her ear, "Do you think we've done our duty to our guests long enough? Because I don't know how much longer I can keep myself from tearing you out of that dress."

Hermione shuddered at the soft tickle of air against her ear and the way his silky-smooth voice washed over her.

"I'm sure no one will miss us," she assured him, pressing herself against his body.

Nipping slightly at her earlobe, he grasped her hand firmly in his and smoothly escorted her off the dance floor and out the doors of the great hall. They faintly heard the laughing and jeering of their friends as they not so subtlety snuck away.

Wrapping her in his arms, he leaned down and kissed her deeply, his hard body pressed up against her, his arousal evident. The kiss heated up, his tongue exploring her mouth as she moaned under his touch. One hand reached up to trace his fingertips along the bare skin exposed by the low back of her dress, while his other hand held her firmly to him.

Severus pulled away from her reluctantly, his forehead pressed against her, panting heavily. He grinned wickedly at her before pulling her with him, down into the dungeons, where as an apprentice of potions to Slughorn, his quarters were located.

Once inside his quarters, he couldn't help but press her up against the back side of the door, leaning down to plunder her mouth again. Hermione moaned and wrapped her hands around him, one tangling in his long hair, while the other trailed along the soft skin of his neck. Growling into the kiss, Severus lifted her into his arms, carrying her across the living room and into his bedroom. He set her down gently onto the edge of his bed, before sliding to his knees in front of her. She leaned back onto her palms as she watched him gently take each foot in his hand, relieving her of the white, strappy heels.

With a smirk at her, he snaked each hand up her thighs, fingertips on skin raising goosebumps across her flesh. He pulled the stocking off her left leg, then proceeded to do the same on the right, tickling her inner thigh and causing her to throw her head back and gasp at the intense feelings he was prompting.

Standing, he kicked off his shoes, before pulling her up to stand in front of him. Turning her gently, he pushed her hair over one shoulder, dipping down to trail kisses across her exposed neck. Reaching behind her, he deftly popped the three buttons at her low back, that was holding the dress tight aginst her. One shoulder at a time, he slipped ghe barely there straps down her arm, kissing a trail along her skin as he went. 

Once stripped of her gown, Hermione turned in his embrace, pushing his robes off his shoulders and letting them pool at their feet with her dress. She captured his eyes as she dragged her fingers down the front of his crisp white shirt, undoing the buttons. Pushing the shirt off his shoulders as well, she wrapped her hands over his bare shoulders and explored the expanse of his smooth chest with her palms.

He stared down at her, heat in his dark eyes, his breath caught in his chest while she explored. When her hands dipped to unbuckle his pants, he groaned, throwing back his head as she stroked his length while she pushed both his pants and shorts down. Stepping out of them, he lifted her gently and crawled onto the bed.

Lying beside her, his hand drifted down to her breast. First, he simply cupped it slightly, gently kneading her flesh. He could feel her strain into his hand, jutting her chest out. He moved to circling her nipple with his fingertips before lightly pinching and pulling the hardening nub between his fingers. At the same time, he leaned down and captured her other nipple in his mouth.

"Oh, Sever...," Hermione moaned, a playful nip from him at her nipple causing the rest of this name to trail off into a moan. 

He continued to play with her nipples, moving to straddle her as he switched sides, his mouth moving to her other breast. She moaned and bucked beneath him as he flicked his tongue over her nipple, his hips grinding against her, hardened length stimulating her core. One hand crept down between them, and he could feel that her knickers were soaked through.

Breaking free of her nipple, he kissed his way down her body, wrapping his fingers in the waistline of her one remaining garment. Gently, he nipped at the center of her soaked underwear, earning a groan of appreciation.

Pulling the white satin down her legs, he tossed them off the bed, returning his focus to his now naked wife, spread out before him. He leaned up on an elbow, taking in her gorgeous body before meeting her eyes. She looked at him with so much want and need, her eyes practically begging. 

Severus placed a few open-mouthed kisses on her pussy before crawling back up her body. He claimed her mouth in a demanding kiss as he lined his cock up with her drenched opening and slid into her tight warmth. They both groaned around the kiss, breaking away to catch their breath. Severus laid his head against Hermione’s shoulder.

Wrapping her legs and arms around him, Hermione bucked beneath him, breaking through his barrier of control. Severus pounded into her and she met him thrust for thrust. Shifting slightly onto his knees, Severus kept going, hitting a new spot inside her that made her scream out his name as he brought her closer and closer to her release.

Hermione panted heavily, wrapping her hand in his hair as he kept going. She could feel the pressure building low in her belly, the tension and power. Still meeting him on every thrust, her legs started to quake and it only took two more hard advances, his pelvis grinding aginst her clit each time, before he pushed her over the edge.

She screamed in ecstasy, her channel pulsing and clenching around his cock as he kept moving aginst her. Severus followed her over the edge shortly after, moaning out his own orgasm as his hips jerked, spilling his seed inside her.

Gently, he turned them on their side, his cock still deep inside her. He brushed her hair back, peppering her face with soft kisses as her eyes fluttered open. She smiled as him.

"I love you," she said, before snuggling her head into his chest, her breathing evening out.

"I love you too," he answered. 

He summoned a blanket, covering them with it before resting his chin atop her head and following her to sleep.

——————————

Severus smiled wistfully into the darkness of the hospital wing. It hadn't been their first time, but it had been special nonetheless.

"We had some good times over the years, but we also had some bad times," he sighed.

"Joining the Death Eaters to play spy. I saw things I'll never forget. I did things I can't forgive myself for. All for the greater good."

He had spat the words out, as if they were dirty. And to him, they were. Tarnished by Albus Dumbledore and his war against darkness.

"If I'd ever been tempted by the darkness in my youth, I'm not any longer. I regret the darker spells I created in anger. Even though I've cast many, the siren song has little effects.”

"Then again, not all the tough memories are Death Eater related. We've had our fights to be sure. No one is perfect, least of all me."

Pausing to think, he sighed deeply.

"Trust me, I know I'm difficult to deal with. Should I forget, Minerva reminds me at every opportunity.

"And of course, there are not only fights, but the disappointments of life," he explained to the dark, dipping back into his memories.

—————————-

** December 1987 **

Severus and Hermione sat on the bed in their chambers, his larger body wrapped protectively around her, while she sat in the circle of his legs. Her wand lay across her knee, waiting patiently.

"I don't know if I can do this again Severus," she admitted quietly, tears starting to drip down her face.

He wrapped his arms tightly around her and she leaned back into him. He gently kissed her neck, then her jaw, finishing off by kissing away one of the salty tears that was making its trek down her cheek.

"You, my love, are so incredibly strong. We can do this. And if the answer is no again, we will survive and keep trying. It'll happen eventually," he assured her.

"And if it doesn't happen eventually?" She asked.

"Then we do it the muggle way. Labs and tests and science. For now, just cast the spell love! We'll work through all the what ifs as they come."

Hermione nodded, picking her wand up out of her lap. Waving an intricate pattern over her abdomen, she muttered the spell, and after a moment the tip of her wand glowed red briefly. 

Throwing her beloved wand onto the bed in disgust, she sank into her husband's embrace.

"No again. Maybe We're just not meant to have children," she muttered sullenly, each word breaking her heart.

Easily, Severus slid from behind her, letting her flop back into the bed before climbing on top of his wife. His hands snaked their way up under her loose shirt as he planted kisses along her neck.

"Screw fate, destiny, and prophecy. The whole lot of it is garbage," he told her between kisses. Looking down into her eyes he assured her, "We will have a family. As many little beasts you want. If the natural way continues to fail, we'll turn to muggle science, and if that fails, the world is full of needy children. Even the magical world."

"We've been trying for nine months with no luck Severus," she sighed, clearly discouraged.

He smirked at her, "Then we'll just have to keep trying. You know what a chore it is!"

He found her ticklish spot, determined to get a laugh out of her, and was successful. Then he pulled her shirt up over her head, latching on to her neck, nipping and sucking as he reached around to unhook her bra. She moaned at his ministrations and he ground his erection into her core.

"How about we try again now," he quipped, before sucking a newly exposed nipple into his mouth.

—————————

** May 3, 1993 **

Severus had already been in the infirmary that evening, administering the restorative draught, that he had just finished brewing to all of the petrified subjects. Sir Nicholas simply thanked him and floated off through a wall. The others however were still unconscious.

Poppy had gone behind him, dosing each patient with nutrient potions and sleep potions, so their bodies would rest and process the nutrients. Each would need several other potions, depending on how long they had been petrified, but all would recover.

He had chosen to take Hermione's care into his own hands, at least for the night. It would be the last night he had with her before things returned to how they had been. Feeding her the nutrient potion, he couldn't help but think, that if they had managed to get pregnant, he would have been up to his ears in that potion.

After finishing her care, the trail of though continued. It had been difficult to try and fail so much, but in the end, he thought that they had probably been luck. Severus wasn’t entirely sure that pregnancy or a small child would have stopped Dumbledore insisting that she de-age for the ‘greater good’. As much as he wanted to think better of the powerful old wizard, Snape had always felt like they were just pawns, rather than people, in Albus’ elaborate game.

He gently held the girl's hand in his own. It was no longer cold or hard as stone. Her hand was soft and warm, he could feel the pulse of blood beneath his fingers, proof she was alive.

Suddenly, a memory came to him unbidden.

————————

** June 1991 **

Hermione sat in her chair by the fire as he returned. He had been assigned to escort the students off to the Hogwarts Express for their trip home for the summer. She looked lost in thought, so he had simply taken up residence in his chair, waiting for her to speak.

After a time, she looked up at him sadly. Tear tracks evident on her face and her wand laid across her lap. He knew what she was going to say before she said it, having known it was that time again, but he waited for her to speak.

"No baby again," she announced bitterly.

"It's okay love," he assured her, words he'd spoken time and time again, for years now. "We can keep trying."

He noted an odd look on her face. A weird mix of sadness, resignation, and determination. The next words out of her mouth shocked him.

"No," she declared fiercely. "I think I'm done trying. It obviously isn't going to happen. I think it's time to stop."

"Well, we haven't tried the muggle way," he said, trying to reassure her that it wasn't hopeless. "And there is always adoption."

"No," she said again. "I am done love. I am tired of the frustration and constant disappointment. No more."

He stood from his chair and crossed over to hers. Kneeling in front of her, he grabbed her hands and looked her in the eyes.

"Are you sure, love?" He asked her.

He saw a moment of indecision in her eyes, then that weird look returned. The look that said, I have to do this.

"Yes," she said quietly, unable to say more.

"Alright, we will stop then," he consoled her.

Standing, he pulled her into his arms. She melted into his embrace. Lifting her gently, he carried her to the bed and laid her down. He pulled the covers up over her. Toeing off his boots, he discarded his robe and frock coat on the chair in the corner before crawling in beside her.

Hermione wrapped herself in his arms, tucked her head into his chest and sobbed. She cried in frustration, the hopelessness leaking out of her. Mourning the children, she would never have. Severus just held her as she cried, one hand rubbing circles on his back while the other carded through her hair.

—————————-

He had always thought that it had been the years and frustration that had led to her decision and subsequent emotional breakdown. However, looking back now, he realized that she had known about Dumbledore's plan. Not just for a few days, but the whole damn summer.

Standing suddenly, he swept out of the infirmary in a flurry of black anger. He quickly covered the distance between the hospital wing and his quarters, slamming and warding the door behind him. 

In a fit of petulance, he activated the floo between his room and Dumbledore's office, summoning the old wizard's well stocked bar to him through the flames. Bottles of fire whiskey, elvish wine, butterbeer, and even goblin-make moonshine emerged from the flames. Shutting down the connection, he threw himself into the chair and opened the first bottle of fire whiskey.

"To hell with sobriety," he muttered as he took a deep swig, the liquid burning its way to his empty stomach.

It wasn't long before his drunkenness sparked his rage and he set about destroying his quarters for the umpteenth time since his wife left him. Using brute strength, he smashed tables and broke chairs. Glass was shattered and books were pried off their shelves. By the time he was finished his muscles screamed, several possibly pulled, or even torn with the rage filled fight against anything phyiscal he could get his hands on. His knuckles were raw, bloody, and bruised. He had made his way through most of Dumbledore's alcohol, even choking down the goblin moonshine despite the way it simultaneously froze and burned his insides.

Severus puked several times, only bringing up bile with his stomach already empty. Hours after the incident, he ended up snoring away, laying in a pile of his own vomit, in front of the fireplace, with empty and broken bottles surrounding him.

Later that morning, Severus' floo flared to life, an older witch stepping through.

"Merlin Severus, I swear. More blasted glass in the hearth ..." she started to scold him, but stopped as she tripped over his passed our form and toppled onto the couch.

She noticed the torn cushions on the couch, the stuffing practically nonexistent, she could tell as her body ached from the fall. The rest of the room destroyed and her boy passed out in his own sick. The strong smell of alcohol and the empty bottles where a dead giveaway in regards to what had happened.

Sighing, she produced her wand and stood, surveying the damage. First, she fixed the couch. Then she vanished the vomit, cleaning the wizard up as best she could, before levitating him off the floor and onto the couch. He continued to snore away as she ran a quick diagnosis spell and patched up his visible damage, as well as a nasty looking tear to his right bicep muscle the best she could.

Since he was still out, she put his quarters back to rights, letting him sleep it off a bit longer. Finally, she connected the floo and summoned a sober up potion from the hospital wing, knowing Severus didn't keep them around any longer.

Settling down in his chair, the old witch gently nudged his shoulder. When the wizard slept on, she proceeded to more drastic means. Sharply, the smacked him in the face, keeping at it until he groggily came too, batting her hands away. Instantly, she forced the potion down his throat, knowing she had a small window to keep him awake in his current state.

The potions effects were very minimal, but worked well enough to wake him up and get him talking, even if his words were slurred and he was very confused.

"Severus, what happened?" She insisted, holding onto the man's shoulder to steady him in his sitting position.

"She fucking knew," he swore, his words slurred and hurried.

"Knew what?" The witch askes, knowing he was talking about Hermione.

"Knew she was leaving. All damn summer," he shouted. "And never said a damn word until the day she left."

Minerva sighed and shook her head, mad at her daughter herself. She couldn't help but think,  _ Hermione, you really messed this one up _ . But to Severus she said.

"Maybe she couldn't tell you son," Minerva consoled him. "We both know Dumbledore and his tricks. Don't make judgements before we know the truth."

Severus considered her words for a long time, his alcohol-soaked brain slow and confused.

"We were trying to start a family Minerva," he admitted to her. "We'd been trying for years. And she just gave up. Left everything we were building."

"I know, son, but Hermione never did anything without good reason. Give her a chance to explain," the older witch pleaded.

Severus nodded sadly, collapsing onto the couch again.

"Oh no you don't, son," Minerva said, pulling him to a standing position, struggling to support his weight. "Let's get you to St Mungo's."

————————

Hermione woke in the hospital wing, groggy and disoriented. She noticed immediate that she felt exhausted and weak, and that her body ached all over, as if ever muscle, tendon, and ligament had been pulled and strained.

Before she should even try to move. Madam Pomfrey rushed over with a tray full of potions in tow. A flick of her wand placed the tray on the side table.

"Not so fast, Miss Granger," the mediwitch scolded. "You've been petrified for two and a half months; your body needs time to heal."

"Two and a half months!" Hermione exclaimed. "What about my classes?"

"Slow down," Madam Pomfrey admonished, pushing a nutrient potion into the girl's hands. "We will get to that in due time. For now, let's get you healthy. That's a nutrient potion, for the time you've gone without food. Your body didn't lose weight or muscle mass in its petrified state, but will start to now if you aren't eating properly and getting those nutrient supplements.

"This next one is for the pain you're feeling. All of the soft tissue was stretched and pulled taunt in your stone-like state. Nothing is damaged, but it will take a few days for them to calm down. We also have a muscle relaxer to help that process."

Hermione downed potion after potion, listening to the healer explain the after effects of her petrification and the steps that would have to be taken to get her back to full health. After taking all the potions, a large breakfast was placed in front of her, with a stern Madam Pomfrey insisting she eat all of it.

It didn't take much coaxing, as Hermione found she was ravenous and dug into the food. Halfway through her meal, Harry and Ron burst through the infirmary doors. The mediwitch reluctantly accepted their presence, but warned them that she would kick them out if the didn't stay quiet.

Harry sat on the edge of her bed, while Ron took the chair and they started telling her the stories about the spiders in the forbidden forest, the diary, and the Chamber of Secrets. They mentioned Lockhart being a fraud and obliviating himself and Harry's fight with the basilisk.

Hermione took all the information in, her head spinning from all she had missed, and she hadn't even got to the academic parts.

"We haven't even told you the best parts!" Ron exclaimed. "No exams this year, since all this giant snake business interrupted so many classes and students."

Hermione couldn't help but feel disappointed despite the missed lessons and the mountain of assignments that no doubt waited for her.

"Yeah, and for some reason Snape is gone," Harry added. "Professor Dumbledore is teaching potions the rest of the year!"

"It's Professor Snape, Harry," she scolded him. "And I wonder if he's okay."

The boys looked at her funny over her concern for the dungeon bat, but shrugged it off as a side effect of being petrified for two months.

Hermione decided not to tell the boys about her weird dreams. Dreams of Professor Snape sitting and holding her hand, talking to her. She never could make out what he was saying in the dreams, but his smooth voice had been soothing. At least he had kept away the nightmares the other students who were petrified were reporting. As weird as dreaming of the fearsome Potions Master was, it was better than the alternative, and she was grateful.


	9. Enter the Wolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the guesses! We’ll have an answer in a couple chapters. :)

**June 1993**

"Ah, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said as she entered his office. "Have a seat my dear."

The young witch entered slowly, unsure of why she had been called into the Headmaster's office. Sure, she was behind on her work for classes, but she had been petrified for two and a half months! They couldn't really blame her for that, could they?

Hermione had already been hard at work trying to catch up with the mountain of work she'd been provided with by her professors. That was as well as trying to keep pace with the current lectures and assignments. While final exams had be canceled for the year, she still needed to know the material. She knew that a lot of the magical theory built on itself, making the lower level information necessary for learning more advanced magic.

Jerking herself out of her own mind, she sat in one of the large comfortable chairs in front of the Headmaster's desk. She politely declined the offer of a lemon drop from the elderly wizard, something in the back of her mind pushing on her, telling her to decline, urgently. Hermione sat, waiting expectantly as he popped one in his mouth.

"Well, I guess you'd like for me to get to the point," Dumbledore said with a chuckle, watching the uncomfortable witch over his half-moon glasses.

"Yes, sir," Hermione replied quietly. "I'm not quite sure why I am here."

"Have you selected your elective classes for next year?" The Headmaster asked.

"No, sir. Professor McGonagall gave me the list of options and discussed the merits of each one, but I've been so far behind I haven't given it much thought."

"What does your gut tell you, Miss Granger?" He inquired seriously.

"My instinct says all of them, and learn everything, but it's obviously not possible with overlapping class times," she admitted, feeling foolish.

"And if it was possible?" Dumbledore questioned, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"You can't be serious, sir! It can't be possible," She scoffed.

"This is a magical world, Miss Granger. Anything is possible," Dumbledore assured her.

Digging into his desk, he pulled out a purple, velvet pouch.

"Now, you are a responsible student and I trust you not to abuse it. This should help you get caught up and take the classes you want next year."

He held the pouch out to her. She hesitated briefly before taking the soft velvet pouch and carefully pulled the necklace from within. Gently, she observed the piece, taking in the hourglass shape within the rings, and the sand inside.

Softly, she read the inscription out loud, forgetting the other occupant of the room briefly, " ** I mark the hours, every one, Nor have I yet outrun the sun. My use and value, unto you, Are gauged by what you have to do. ** "

Dumbledore cleared his throat softly and she started before looking up at him. An amused smile crossed the old man's face.

"The time-turner is fairly simple. The chain must be worn around a part of your body. You just turn the hourglass once for each hour you wish to go back in time. However, you must never go back more than five hours at one time and you must never be seen by yourself.  ** Terrible things can happen to wizards and witches who meddle with time ** ," he warned her gravely.

A small part of Hermione wanted to refuse the gift. It pulled and pushed at the back of her mind, begging for attention, trying to warn her. On the other hand, she thought of all she could learn and all the times she had though,  if I could only have more time .

"And do not tell your friends about this Miss Granger," Albus insisted. "We can't go handing out time turners to every student, now can we?"

Hermione nodded, made slightly uncomfortable by something, almost calculating in the Headmaster's smile. Nevertheless, she looped the chain around her neck, tucking the hourglass beneath her shirt.

Once dismissed by the Headmaster, she took off to collect her bag and assignments from her dorm. She wondered how much time she could get in the library before the end of the year without being noticed. The time turner beneath her shirt itching to be used.

————————

** August 5, 1993 **

A subtle screech outside the Burrow after midnight, startled Hermione out of her book. She had been using the shed as a place to study at night, when she used the time turner, all summer.

Crossing to the door of the shed, she peaked out, watching as the Knight Bus pulled away rapidly, leaving a single person standing in the drive. The figure got closer, dragging what looked like a Hogwarts trunk behind him.

Recognizing Harry, Hermione rushed from the shed, sprinting across the lawn. She wrapped her arms around the boy before he realized what was going on.

"Hermione?" Harry asked

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked, looking the boy up and down, searching for injuries.

"I accidentally blew up Aunt Marge," Harry muttered.

”You what?" Hermione screeched, before remembering it was the middle of the night and lowering her voice. "What do you mean you blew her up?"

"She was bad mouthing my mum and dad. I just lost my temper and the next thing I knew she started blowing up like a balloon. She floated out of the sun room and then off into the evening," Harry explained. "I just panicked, packed my trunk and took off. Then that bus showed up and well, now I'm here."

"Merlin Harry! You could be expelled," Hermione exclaimed.

"I know Hermione", he said, trying to calm her. "I was hoping Mr. Weasley could maybe help."

Subtly checking her watch, Hermione quietly ushered Harry into the kitchen of the Burrow. Setting him down at the table, she moved to the stove, setting the tea kettle on. They stood quietly in the familiarity of the slightly, structurally questionable home, simply enjoying each other's company.

"So, what are you doing up this late?" Harry asked.

"Oh, just studying," she replied.

"In the shed?" he questioned, looking at her curiously.

"Let's just say that I don't get very much quiet time around here," Hermione honestly told him.

The kettle whistled softly, saving her from more explanation, as she turned toward the stove to pull it off the flame. Setting cups on the table, she joined him again and they chatted about their respective summers.

As the sun crested the horizon, they heard the signs of the inhabitants of the home waking up. First to bustle down the stairs was Molly Weasley.

"Hermione, you're up early dear," Mrs. Weasley questioned from the other room.

"We had a late-night visitor," she responded, alerting the witch.

"Oh ..." Molly asked as she entered the kitchen, stopping short at the sight of the boy at the table. "Oh, Harry! It's so good to see you."

The motherly witch pulled him from his seat, wrapping him in a hug.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Harry grunted, wrapped in her tight embrace.

"Now, how did you get here?" She asked, flicking her wand at the stove to get breakfast started.

"Er, the Knight Bus dropped me off. My Uncle kind of, um, threw me out," he hedged, telling a version of the truth.

Before she could respond, Mr. Weasley appeared in the kitchen.

"Morning Hermione. Morning Harry," he announced as he walked over to hug his wife.

Hermione chuckled, "Morning Mr. Weasley."

"Er, Harry? Were we expecting you?" Arthur questioned.

"Um, no sir. Sorry to intrude," Harry responded.

"No intrusion at all dear, you are always welcome here," Molly assured him.

Just then, the floo flared to life with an unfamiliar witch's head in the green flames.

"Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, the Minister requests permission to come through," she explained.

"Yes, of course," Mr. Weasley responded.

The connection ended and then the flames flared green again, an impeccably dressed, but short and portly man appeared in the kitchen.

"Good morning Minister," Arthur said. "To what do we owe this pleasure?"

"Yes, good morning Arthur," Fudge replied. "I'm here concerning Mr. Potter. Ah yes, there he is."

"Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic," the man said by way of introduction, extending his hand to the baffled young wizard.

Hermione gently elbowed Harry in the side, snapping the boy back to himself.

"Oh yes, sir. Harry Potter," he responded, shaking Fudge's hand.

"Now, you gave us quite a scare young man," Fudge announced.

"Um, sorry sir," Harry apologized, not entirely sure what for.

"It's alright. I was just glad to find you safe here with the Weasley family. Furthermore, the situation with your aunt has been resolved fully. So, no need to worry there," Fudge explained.

"Resolved? I'm not in trouble?" Harry had to ask.

"Of course not, dear boy," Fudge assured him. "Accidental magic is just that, accidental. No harm done."

Leaving it at that, Fudge turned back to Mr. Weasley, "Now Arthur, I'm sure he is safe in your hands, so I'll leave you to it."

"Would you care for some breakfast Minister," Molly asked as she was placing large plates of food in front of both Harry and Hermione.

"No thank you Molly," Fudge declined. "Appointments to get to."

With that and a handful of floo powder, he stepped back into the fireplace and was gone. The rest of the Weasley trickled down to the breakfast table and life went on.

—————————-

** September 1, 1993 **

The trio had got to the platform late and were now scrambling to find a compartment to sit in. They squeezed past the press of students, looking for a seat and connecting with friends.

They almost passed by a mostly empty compartment. Taking a second look they noticed only a passenger sleeping against the window, and decided to shuffle in, shutting the door behind them. The three teenagers stuffed their rucksacks in the overhead rack, settling the animal cages. They’d chosen to leave their trunks on the platform, to be loaded into baggage car, a perk they’d just learned was a poorly kept upper class secret.

"Who is he?" Ron asked, turning to sit down on the bench.

"His bag says Remus Lupin," Harry announced.

Hermione froze in the middle of storing Crookshank's carrier, a chill running down her spine. Something in that name sounded familiar, something that tugged on the back of her mind. Unable to follow the feeling any further, she finished stowing the carrier, and took her seat as if nothing had happened.

Neither of the boys seemed to notice that anything had happened. They were chatting about the last quidditch match they had played in the orchard. The man against the window didn't move throughout their conversation.

Suddenly, the train screeched to a jerky halt, jostling the three.

"What was that?" Ron asked.

They heard similar questions coming from the hallway as students poked their heads out to see what was going on. Nothing seemed immediately amiss, so compartment doors shut as students settled back down to wait out the delay. The same went for the three Gryffindors.

A few minutes later, the temperature in the compartment seemed to have dropped drastically. The exterior window froze over, and fog was building on the compartment door. In the hallway, a dark shadow lurked.

The shadow stopped outside of their compartment, a clawed hand reached out and opened the compartment door, letting it in. The cloaked creature leaned him, observing the occupants before locking its focus on Hermione.

The witch sat in her seat, her breath visible in front of her, fear and despair building in her heart. She could hear voices, whispering fiercely. Within her mind, she felt a pounding pressure building and a blinding light. It continued to build as the creature reached out to her, leaning his hooded head towards her. The white light in her head flared even brighter and pulsed, as with its own life. The power building within pushing outward.

Suddenly, the hooded figure reared back away violently, turning its head, looking for another victim. It honed in on Harry, leaning into the boy. Hermione was too drained to do anything after the buildup of magic had been expelled. Ron was frozen in place.

Suddenly, the blinding light was back, coming from the now awake man's brandished wand. The creature retreated into the hallway and then further down the train car. Remus knelt to straighten Harry, who had passed out, while also checking on the other two teenagers in the compartment. Hermione was exhaused and lingered on the edge of consciousness, while Ron meerly looked pale and shaken. 

Remus pulled a bar of chocolate from his coat, breaking it into several pieces, he offered one to the startled red-head, who took it and scarfed it immediately. The next piece he offered to Hermione, who was still too dazed to notice. He took her hand in his and pressed the piece of dark chocolate into her palm. She weakly looked down at the chocolate in her hand.

“Honeyduke’s special replenishing chocolate,” Remus explained with a soft smile.

She stared at him for a moment, pressurw building in her head again. Hermione swore he seemed familiar. He face, his smile, his voice. He simply just nodded to the chocolate in her hand once more before turning toward Harry, who was starting to come around.

Lupin passed another chunk of chocolate to Harry, encouraging him to eat as well. Satisfied that the three students were on the mend from the tramatic encounter with the dementor, he took his leave. Shortly after that, the train started moving again, continuing on its way to Hogwarts.

—————————

There was a strong knock at his door. Severus thought it odd for there to be a caller at his door this late, but now that the school was filled with students again, it wasn't impossible. The knock came again as he reached the door, throwing it open in the hopes of intimidating whoever it was on the other side.

"Those tricks won't work on me, old friend," Remus announced with a chuckle.

Severus' expression changed from a fierce snarl to a broad smile.

"Get in here, you!" Severus demanded. 

"Before someone sees your scrawny arse."

Shutting the door, after Remus had entered, Severus turned and collapsed into his chair, gesturing to the couch.

"Didn't you have another chair?" Remus inquired, while taking a seat on the couch.

"Don't ask. And, where the hell have you been while I've been dealing with all this bullshit on my own? Some best man." Severus muttered.

"On the continent. Doing some sniffing around for Dumbledore, but also the only place I could get a job from time to time," Remus informed him.

"Ah yes, Lord Dumbledore and his orders," Severus muttered sullenly, wishing for a drink.

"I saw your girl earlier," Remus mentioned. "Took everything in me to be near her for even a few minutes without letting anything slip. Gods she looks exactly the same as when we were kids. Though, I guess she hasn't figured out the hair trick."

"Yes, well James and Sirius had a lot to do with her motivation behind that one," Snape answered.

"How have you managed to teach her and not go insane?" Remus asked. "I'm not sure I'll be able to do it."

"How do you know I haven't? Gone insane that is. I'm a widower being haunted by his wife's younger self. It has been hell," he admitted. "And to top it all off, James' boy drags her into trouble with him left and right! Nearly three months, Remus, she spends nearly three months in the hospital wing last year! And that isn't counting the polyjuice incident."

"Polyjuice incident?" Remus asked.

Shaking his head and smiling ruefully, Severus answered, "Yes. My brilliant wife, being the witch, she is, brewed polyjuice potion absolutely perfectly with all the memories and magical capabilities of a twelve-year-old."

"Then why was she in the hospital wing?"

"Because she lifted cat hairs off the robes of the student she was planning on impersonating," Severus said, unable to stop the laughter that followed the memory of his wife as a cat.

Once Remus had stopped rolling with laughter as well, he choked out, "You have to show me that memory!"

"Oh no! When she comes back to herself, my wife will be annoyed at me for holding it over her head. However, if I share it, she will kill me. Once she's back, ask Potter or Weasley if they'd be willing to risk their lives. I'm sure you'll get the same answer though," Severus chuckled.

"It's good to see you, Severus."

"It is good to see you as well, Remus. Despite the circumstances," Snape acknowledged.

"You still don't think Sirius did it, do you?" Remus asked.

"I never thought I'd be vouching for Black, but no, I don't think he betrayed them. I don't even think the threat of the Kiss would have turned Black against James," Severus said. "It helps that I never saw Black anywhere near the Dark Lord. But then again, I never saw anyone else close enough to James and Lily that they'd make secret keeper."

"The Dark Lord?" Remus inquired.

"One must keep up appearances," Severus admitted. "You never know who is listening so even in my private chambers, I must never slip."

"Understood," Remus agreed. "Albus seems to think that Black is coming for Harry."

"Not outside of the realm of possibilities," Severus agreed.

"Well, I have a horde of moody teenagers to get prepared for, so I'll depart," Remus said, making his way to the door.

"Use the floo, wolf," Severus teased. "Your comings and goings won't be noticed that way and I expect you to visit often and help keep me sane this year. One more year with Minerva as my only confidant and I might check myself into Mungo's Asylum."

Remus chuckled softly, but agreed, departing in a flare of green flames moments later.

—————————

** September 3, 1993 **

"So, third year Defense Against the Dark Arts focuses mostly on dark creatures, how to identify them, and how to most effectively defend against them," Remus explained, his gaze traveling over the room of students. "However, briefly, I want to go over a few basics before we dive in."

There was some murmuring among the class, but he mostly ignored it for the time being. Hermione watched her Professor, feeling a strong pull of recognition, like she had met him before, even though she knew that she hadn't. The more she investigated that feeling with her mind, the more resistance she got, running up against invisible barriers. Frustrated, she simply settled in to listen to her defense professor, pointedly ignoring those feelings. For now at least.

"Now, who has ever had to use a defensive spell taught in this class?" Remus asked.

A few scattered hands went up among the Gryffindor/Slytherin third year class, though the clump of three hands at one desk caught his eye.

"Ah, yes, Mr. Potter. Silly question I guess," he responded wryly. "Well, how about this. Has anyone used or seen a non-defensive spell used for defensive purposes?"

Three hands went up in the room and they were all from the same table.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley, what spell did you see or use and how?"

"Well, Hermione levitated Harry as he fell off the back of a troll in first year," Ron explained.

"Is that so? Hmmm, interesting choice. And what happened when she levitated you Mr. Potter?" Professor Lupin asked.

"Um, I guess I jolted back up before being lowered to the ground," Harry responded.

"And do you know why that was, Miss Granger?" He continued the line of questioning.

"Because it's a spell designed for levitation Professor. The intention of the spell is to lift, so the initial movement was up. After that, it was controlled by my wand movements," Hermione explained.

"Excellent," Remus said. "Now, can anyone tell me why that wouldn't work for someone falling from the top of the astronomy tower?"

Only one hand in the room was raised. Remus waited a moment, but no one else seemed able to answer or willing to hazard a guess. He called on Hermione to answer again.

"Because the spell isn't designed to slow. My guess would be that the upward response would be equal to the downward momentum. At best, that would result in a bad case of whiplash," she concluded.

"Very good," Remus told her, momentarily nostalgic. "Now, we are going to cover a few very basic spells for defense, including shields and disarming. Many of the creatures we discuss will have specific weaknesses, but basic defense will always buy you some time at least!"

—————————

"Gods Severus, I don't know how you do it," Remus sighed, sitting once again on the potion master's couch. "It's like falling 20 years into the past! Such a brilliant little witch."

"Almost," Snape agreed. "She was much more confident in our time. Between you, me, and Lily, she felt academically challenged at least. And she wasn't the only one volunteering to answer in our days. Though I suppose I am to blame for the lack of confidence more than I'd like to admit."

"Oh?" Lupin inquired.

"I always seem to end up with Gryffindor/Slytherin potions for their year. And of course, I must favor my snakes. Which often leads to tormenting the Gryffindors, specifically those three. Keeping up appearances as usual," Severus sighed. "I'm sure Dumbledore does it on purpose, so I don't get too close. Her hating me does make it somewhat easier during class to manage, but harder to live with myself in general."

"But you've been managing alright, haven't you?" Lupin asked, concern in his eyes

"Only if you call two stints in St. Mungo's Addiction ward alright," Snape admits bitterly.

"Oh Severus ..."

"Enough. No pity parties for me. Minerva looks out for me and I manage the best I can," the wizard announced. "It is what it is."

————————

** November 1975 **

"Why don't you say something to them? Or retaliate?" Severus asked, as he de-tangled a still writhing salamander tail from her hair.

Class had ended a few minutes before, leaving the two alone in the classroom. Despite her straighter hair, it still took awhile to get certain creatures, or rather bits of creatures, out.

"What would be the point? Sirius would still be a pig and James still an arse. It would just rile them up more if they knew it bothered me," she said, shouldering her bag, kissing his cheek gently, and walking towards the door. "Besides, who says I don't retaliate."

She had called the last bit over her shoulder, so he had rushed to catch up.

"What do you mean?" Snape questioned.

"Boys!" She huffed in annoyance. "Not an ounce of subtlety. Let's just say the 'down stairs' problem Sirius has to see Madam Pomfrey for often isn't related to his extracurricular activities."

Severus winced, almost feeling sorry for the guy, but the memory of one too many hexes to the back cured that. While the Gryffindor boys were too honorable to hex a girl unprovoked, they had no such reservation in regards to him.

"And James, well he's just showing off for Black. So, I leave him be mostly. If he wasn't dating Lily, I'd bet money those two were secretly gay and a couple," Hermione continued.

Shaking her head sadly, she added, "It's a damn shame the whole world is so backwards, that even if it was true, they'd feel the need to hide it. Muggle and wizard both, though the muggles are coming around faster."

The two walked to lunch together, Severus pulling his sweet, caring, and devious witch into a quiet alcove briefly to let her snog him senseless, before continuing on.


	10. Secrets Revealed

** November 18, 1993 **

Remus Lupin burst through his floo, in fits of laughter. Breathing heavily, he made his way to the cabinet where he knew that Severus kept a small, personal pensive tucked away. Pulling open the doors, the grabbed the small bowl, gently carrying it over to the small dining table in the room.

"What are you doing Lupin?" Severus asked, eyeing the device.

"You have to see this," Remus chuckled.

He pressed his wand to his temples and withdrawing a silvery strand of memory. Gently, he placed it in the bowl, stirring the liquid. Severus joined him at the table.

"What is it that we are watching?" Severus inquired.

"You'll see," Lupin said, trying to restrain more laughter, as he leaned forward into the bowl.

Together, the two entered Lupin's memory, fog swirling until it cleared. They were in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. The desks were pushed against the wall and the students stood in a cluster. Remus was standing next to Neville Longbottom, in front of a large wardrobe.

** " Professor Snape," Neville whispered. **

** " Professor Snape ... hmmmm ... Neville, I believe you live with your grandmother?" Remus asked. **

** " Er — yes," said Neville nervously. "But — I don't want the boggart to turn into her either." **

** " No, no you misunderstand me," said Professor Lupin, now smiling. "Can you picture her clothes very clearly, Neville?" **

** " Yes," said Neville. **

"Good, now when the boggart appears, picture Professor Snape in your grandmother's clothing and perform the spell."

Severus turned to Remus, standing next to him and watching the memory.

"Really?" Snape asked. "You encouraged this madness?"

Remus smirked at him, "Of course, now watch."

Rolling his eyes, Snape turned back to memory Remus as he flicked his wand and opened up the door.

Out of the depths of the wardrobe prowled the boggart Snape dressed in his usual black robes. Neville was visibly shaking as the boggart stalked towards him. Finally, he performed the spell and the boggart staggered back, the dark black robes changing rapidly. Within moments, the boggart Snape stood in low heels, wearing a long green dress, with most of a fox wrapped around his neck and a vulture on his head, clutching a large red bag.

Remus broke out in laughter at the same time as memory Remus and the rest of the class. Severus tried to maintain his signature glare, but failed and joined the laughter, clutching his sides. The memory continued to play, as the class formed something resembling a line and Weasley stepped forward next.

"Oh blast," Remus muttered. "I was too distracted that I didn't cut the memory off right."

"It's fine," Snape chuckled. "Seeing some of their fears might give me some ammunition and a chuckle.”

They watched as the next three students stood up against the boggart, laughing as mundane fears turned into a humorous counterpart.

However, suddenly Severus froze, his gaze not on the boggart, but on Hermione Granger. She stood near the front of the group, laughing along with the students. Like most of the class, she had shrugged out of her robe, leaving it draped over one of the desks. What had caught his eye however, was the gold chain holding a small hourglass inside two gold rings hanging against her shirt.

Without saying a word to Remus, he rapidly pulled himself out of the memory. Noticing that he was alone, the werewolf pulled out of the memory as well, watching Severus storm towards the door. Hurrying after him, he hollered, trying to get the man's attention, but nothing could stop the dark wizard. The wolf simply followed him through the halls of Hogwarts.

Severus stormed through the castle, seeing red. He couldn't believe that the crazy old wizard would be so stupid. 

Reaching the gargoyle, he bitterly spat the password, taking the steps two at a time once they appeared.

Bursting through the door to the Headmaster's office, Severus roared, "You gave her a time turner?"

"A what?" Remus asked, having managed to keep up and join.

"You did what, Albus?" Minerva screeched at the same time the Defense professor had spoken.

Neither man has seen her sitting in one of the guest chairs in front of the desk. Now, she stood beside Severus, just as enraged.

"How stupid can you be, old man?" Snape snapped.

"This is incredibly irresponsible and reckless," Minerva added.

"Silence, both of you," Dumbledore demanded sternly. "Remus, if you would mind shutting the door, then we can all take a seat and discuss this like civilized adults."

Remus did as he was told, before taking a seat, in the third chair Albus had summoned, beside the two seething professors. Watching them carefully, he thought he saw murder in Severus' eyes, with Minerva not far behind by the looks of it.

"Lemon drop?" He offered, holding a bowl out to the three after popping one in his own mouth.

"Damnit Albus, you know I'll have none of your drugged candy," Snape growled knocking the dish aside.

"Drugged?" Remus questioned, though none were listening.

"What were you thinking giving the girl a time turner?" Snape demanded.

"Miss Granger is perfectly capable of handling herself like a responsible adult with the device," Dumbledore assured him.

"Perfectly capable of not getting caught, sure," Minerva admitted. "But it's not that I'm worried about. You know that time turner over use is dangerous Albus and can be addictive!"

"And the fourteen-year-old Hermione I knew wouldn't have hesitated to go back and study constantly if she had the ability," Severus confirmed. “Running herself into the ground no doubt.”

"No need to worry yourselves. Miss Granger will be fine,” Albus said.

“And how do you know that Albus? Huh? Did you stop to consider what messing with time could do to her? We have no idea! We still don’t even know what happened to cause her to bounce back in time in the first place!” Severus insisted.

“She’s had several bouts of magical exhaustion,” Dumbledore insisted. “Aging her body faster will help stabilize her magic. If she increases her level of knowledge along the way, to better assist Harry, then all the better. Besides, I made sure we had plenty of time available.”

“So you’re just turning her into your child soldier?” Minera queried, anger embedded in every word.

Suddenly, the things the old man said slid into place.

"You knew this was going to happen. It’s why you padded the age to twenty-one, instead of normal wizarding majority of seventeen. You insisted it was for her safety. She put her trust in you And you played her, like you played all of us! She didn’t agree to the risks of playing with time! Hermione knew how dangerous it could be,” Severus accused.

"Well, I didn't know it was going to work out quite like this!" Dumbledore defended himself. "You know how fickle prophecy can be!"

"Oh no, not another damn prophecy! This is what has been compelling you?" Snape asked. "Don't you know you're supposed to leave the damn things alone. They happen all on their own, that's the fucking point. But Almighty Dumbledore can't have something he can't control around. No rogue elements even if it puts good people's lives in danger."

"Now listen here Severus! I will not sit by while you continue to question me. I do what I do for the greater good. Hermione chose to serve the cause. I will do what I need to in order to make sure Voldemort is defeated," the Headmaster insisted.

"He's been defeated Albus. The old bastard is dead!"

"And I intend to make sure it stays that way," the usually calm old wizard roared.

Severus stood, staring the man down before sweeping away. Minerva followed, wanting to keep an eye on the distraught young man. Left reeling, Remus numbly followed them.

Once within the safety of his rooms, Severus immediately vented his anger, breaking several wooden chairs before Minerva could stop him.

"Severus Snape, I will stun you if you do not quit that. Frankly, I am tired off putting your chambers back together every time you destroy them," Minerva insisted.

Sulking, he stormed into his bedroom and Minerva heard the shower start. 

Shrugging, she settled down on the couch, flicking her wand at the broken chairs to mend them.

"And just how many times has he destroyed his rooms," Remus asked as he took up a spot on the couch beside her.

"Too many times to count," Minerva acknowledged sadly.

"And what did he mean by drugged candy?"

"Albus doses his lemon drops with a calming draught. It relaxes people and makes them feel comfortable, so they give up what he wants to know more easily," the witch answered.

"But he's always eating them himself," Remus said, shocked at the Headmaster.

"Yes, well, Albus doesn't seem to have any qualms about drugging himself. I'm not sure if the old goat has formed a resistance or an addiction."

Remus didn't know what to make of the situation, sitting quietly beside Minerva. They listened to the shower running in the other room, wondering what kind of mood Severus would be in when he emerged.

————————

** January 6, 1994 **

Hermione sat at her normal table in the library, one set back in the stacks, away from prying eyes and the general murmur of students. However, it was the middle of the night, so neither were an immediate concern, just the potential for a professor to stumble across her. This far back in the library, the light from the lantern wouldn't be seen from the entryway.

Across the table in front of her, an array of books was laid out to various pages, all covering Occlumency. Most were from the main library, but a few had been pulled from the restricted section. She had been able to bypass the magical locks, even though it had taken a few months, eventually following her instincts to the proper spell work.

The focus of her extracurricular studying in the last week had been Occlumency. Since Professor Lupin has appeared at Hogwarts, she had more and more felt that he should be familiar, but when exploring her feelings, she felt blocked. So, obviously, mind magic was the next step.

Hermione had been practicing the meditations describes in the books and the handful of mental exercises. Now, she felt ready to fully dive into her mind for the first time. The books explained that the first time fully immersing would be the most difficult.

The mind would be building a landscape that she could connect with in order to access her thoughts, memories, and even her magic. Though her mind was already well organized, it simply had to give her a platform she could navigate. Once the landscape was developed, it would become easier and easier to navigate, manage, and protect, as long as she kept practicing.

Breathing deeply, Hermione closed her eyes and relaxed into her chair. At first, everything was simply dark. The silence and darkness stretched as she patiently moved through the exercise described in the text for exploring her mental landscape for the first time. It didn't take long for the image started to for in front of her. Gasping in delighted surprise, she realized she was standing in the Hogwarts entry hall.

Following pure instinct, she walked to the second floor, passing familiar paintings, each detail flawless. Stopping at a classroom she knew to be unused, she opened the door. The landscape changed as she walked straight into a memory of her fifth birthday. She recognized the familiar park near her home and the pink castle cake she had requested. Looking back, the door shape broke the landscape, showing her the corridors at Hogwarts.

Emerging from the memory, she tried to locate a specific memory by thinking about it. Her body moved in its own and the distance between the second and third floor melted away. She found herself in front of another door. Entering the room, she found exactly what she had been looking for, the memory of receiving her Hogwarts letter.

Knowing now, that her mentalscape was working properly, she brought up the thought of Professor Lupin. At first, nothing happened, she even felt pressure against her. However, after pushing enough, she found a faint thread that hummed with familiarity. 

She followed that thread, having to stop and refocus as she lost and then found it again several times. Hermione passed rooms that urged her to open them, simply looking in on memories from his classes. Finally, she ended up on the seventh floor, along an empty stretch of wall. The feeling seemed to dead end here, so she observed the location carefully.

The corridor was small, with a few scones littered about for light. The wall was blank. No doors, no paintings, just stone. Across from it was a large and odd painting of a wizard, surrounded by trolls in tutus and ballet flats. As the image moved, the man did his best to dodge the lumbering beasts.

Nothing seemed odd or out of the ordinary. Though, no matter how hard she tried to bring up that feeling of familiarity, it simply led here. Growling in frustration, she gave up her attempts for the night. She opened her eyes and started digging through the books for information. Looking for any hint why she would hit a dead end.

Hermione knew that she more she practiced and accessed her mentalscape, that if would come easier. With time, she would be able to use it without closing her eyes or even stopping a conversation she was having. Eventually, she could learn to hide her emotions within and even defend her mind against invasion. However, at the moment, her biggest question, was why did Remus Lupin feel familiar.

———————————

** April 28, 1994 **

"Damnit Black," Severus muttered as he crawled through the tunnel to the Shrieking Shack, "you always were a stupid, selfish bastard. And now you dragged the wolf along with you."

Inside the shack, Harry and Hermione had burst into the upstairs room to find Ron laying on a dirty, dust covered bed in the corner, clutching Scabbers to his chest. He stuttered and pointed towards the back of the room, causing both teenagers to whip around. Behind them stood Sirius Black, arguing quietly with Remus Lupin. The adults looked up at them as they turned.

"Harry, you've grown," Black admitted. "You look just like James."

Harry lunged towards the wizard, but Hermione held him back.

Turning his gaze on Hermione, the escaped wizard looked at her intently, feeling as if he knew her somehow. His gaze made her feel uncomfortable.

"I trusted you, kept your secret, and you led him right too Harry," Hermione growled. "We can't trust him, he's a werewolf."

"It isn't what you think Hermione," Remus tried to assure her.

"Like hell it isn't," Harry swore. "He killed my parents and you side with him!" 

"I did not kill James and Lily Potter," Black insisted fiercely.

"If you didn't then who did?" Hermione demanded.

Any answer they were going to offer was stalled by the arrival of one Severus Snape in the doorway, casting a disarming spell at Remus. He flawlessly caught the wand in his offhand.

Any feelings he had for the wolf, or belief he held in Black had to be pushed down for now. He couldn't be shown to favor Gryffindors in front of students. He simply had to round them all up and bring them to Dumbledore. As much as he hated the manipulative old wizard, he would be able to sort things out.

However, his plan would never get that far. As he pointed his wand at Black, informing the lot that he'd be bringing them back to the castle, he was thrown across the room with the force of Hermione's stunner. All four men in the room stared at her in shock.

She turned her wand on Black, "You never answered my question."

"Well, as dramatic and cliché as it sounds, and I do love being dramatic," Black declared. Leveling his finger on Ron in the corner, "it was the rat!"

"Scabbers is just a regular rat," Ron protested.

"Not just any ordinary rat!" Black declared. "He's lived way too long to be just any old rat, even with the added lifespan of living among wizards. No, that rat is one Peter Pettigrew. Lowlife, coward, traitor, and murderer!"

"Liar!" Harry shouted, pointing his wand at Black. "You killed Pettigrew!"

"No Harry," Remus said, putting himself between the boy and Black. "I thought so too until you told me he showed up on the map."

"You're just trying to protect him," Harry sneered

"We were all friends. We all became animagi to keep Remus company while he changed. Peter's form was a rat," Black explained. "Specifically, that rat."

"Prove it," Hermione insisted, knowing more about animagi, due to her studies this last year, than the boys. "Turn him back."

"Fine. The rat?" Black demanded.

Hermione wrestled a frantic Scabbers away from an unhappy Ron while Lupin retrieved his own wand and pilfered Snape's for Black. The second he laid his hand on it, Snape's wand shocked the man, causing him to swear and drop it. Remus rolled his eyes and passed his old friend his wand, picking Severus' wand back up.

"Not my bloody fault his wands as snarly as he is," Black muttered.

"Now Hermione, just place him between us and get out of the way fast," Remus explained, pointing his wand at the rat.

Hermione placed Scabbers down in the middle of the room, waiting until both wands were trained on the rodent before letting go and backing off quickly. Scabbers instantly tried to take off, quickly enough the two wizards missed the spell a few times before finally hitting it.

The small rodent quickly enlarged to a small, portly man, with a sharp pointed face and only wisps of hair left. It wasn't long before the guilt of one Peter Pettigrew was evident by his own cowardly admission. Despite Black and Remus' demands for revenge, they began the trek back through the tunnel with a lame Ron, restrained Pettigrew, and unconscious Severus. Hermione had handled Severus, being the most practiced of the youngest in levitation charms. She also gathered up his wand for him, surprised by the warm, familiar feeling of the wood in her hands.

Once out under the still immobilized willow, the light of the moon caught Lupin unawares. Everyone, aware of the werewolf in their midst, turned to watch as the wizard froze, his body already starting the transformation. Black tried to reason with the wolf, while the three teenagers huddled together. It was at that time that Severus recovered from the stunner, turning his anger on the three students, especially Hermione, as he snatched his wand.

The snarl of the werewolf had him turning rapidly, throwing himself up as a shield between the students and the beast. Hermione clutched him in fear, feeling safe and comforted by his presence.

Black, in the form of a large dog, engaged with the wolf again, the pair tumbling off into the trees. Harry took off after his godfather, prompting Hermione to attempt at following him. However, Severus was successful at restraining her, escorting her and Ron off to the hospital wing. Aurors who had arrived at Hogwarts after being warned by Severus had located Black and Potter after the dementor attack, imprisoning one while depositing the other in the infirmary.

————————————

When all was said and done, Severus sat in his chambers, Minerva and Remus on the couch, the latter looking more than a little rough.

Pettigrew had managed to escape in the fray, the Aurors unable to locate him on the grounds. Black had also managed to escape, still a criminal in the eyes of the Ministry without someone else to take the fall.

"So Potter managed to stun you huh?" Minerva asked.

"Hermione," Snape corrected.

"How do you know?" Remus inquired. "You didn't even see it coming!"

"I recognized the feel of her magic," Severus admitted sheepishly, "Though I prefer not to be the target of be her offensive spells. Even with a reduced magic level, she packs a punch."

"I know. I saw Draco Malfoy's face after she was done with him," Remus grinned. "I did my best not to upset her in school. Though, Sirius and James were on her bad side more than a few times."

"Oh, yeah, pay up wolf," Severus recalled suddenly, holding his hand out expectantly. "I told you Black didn't do it."

Remus grumbled, but forked over a few galleons.

"You bet on Sirius Black being innocent?" Minerva asked in disbelief.

"No, I bet on Black being enough of a love-sick puppy to never turn on James," Severus admitted. "Two very different things."

"Yeah, well, you got stunned by a fifteen-year-old and your wife," Remus muttered childishly, stealing Severus' thunder.

"I know," Severus sighed.

"She really aged herself an extra year and a half?" Minerva questioned.

"Yes," Severus and Remus both responded, vividly remembering the girl's lust of knowledge and studying habits at that age.

“Hey Severus, since you’re involved in all of this, why didn’t Sirius or Peter recognize Hermione?” Remus inquired.

Snapes face turned dark before responsing, “More of Dumbledore’s meddling. Anyone that he didn’t approve, will feel that she looks vaguely familiar, but won’t make the connections between Hermione McGonagall Snape and Hermione Granger. I was originally annoyed at him messing with things even more after she was de-aged, and could no longer approve or deny him herself, but with Lucius on the Board of Governers and now the rat returning to the Dark Lord, I’m glad that he did.”


	11. Yule Disaster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so a couple of things. This is a rough chapter and expect that going in. Don’t hate me for some of the character choices that are made. And please review! Thanks :)
> 
> Additionally, I am working on writing Chapter 19 right now, so still have a bit of buffer. However, life has a hard-on for the curveball, and threw me a life shattering, no going back, what the fucking hell, what did I do to deserve this kind of curveball. These things are hit or miss for being able to keep up writing, but I’ll do my best.

** July 5, 1994 **

Molly Weasley was the first one to really notice that something was wrong with Hermione. Sure, everyone in the family noticed the dark circles under her eyes and the irritability, but it ran deeper than that.

Hermione had stopped eating for the most part, only taking one or two bites at meals, and only because someone was watching her. The rest she would silently vanish bit by bit when she thought no one was watching. Molly had been watching though. She had noticed that the young witch had lost quite a bit of weight, all of her clothes incredibly baggy. Her hair had become very lank and brittle instead of its normal bushy halo.

The Weasley Matriarch was also aware that the girl had not been sleeping. She went into the room she shared with Ginny and laid down each night, at least until she thought everyone was asleep. Molly always heard the tentative steps on the creaky stairs each night.

Additionally, Hermione was jumpy at the slightest moments and just plain uninterested. She rarely read anymore, just staring off in space.

Molly was beyond worried. At first, she assumed that it would be a phase, but then it continued. Mrs. Weasley knew that Hermione had never really felt part of the family. She felt like the boys were brothers and Ginny her sister. Hermione treated her and Arthur as surrogate parents, but it wasn't mom and dad.

Not that Molly blamed her. Even though her memories had been locked away for a while, even magic couldn't erase the bond between Hermione and Minerva. Honestly, Molly thought it was needlessly cruel of Dumbledore to separate them. True, Hermione was the closest to Harry Potter, who usually spent a good chunk of his summer at the Burrow. That had been Dumbledore's plan all along and it was working well enough. Hermione was definitely the brains behind the trio, unable to keep the boys out of trouble in the first place, but usually able to get him out of trouble after the fact.

Either way, Molly considered Hermione part of the family and she was seriously worried about the girl. So much so, that she had written to Minerva and asked her to come for tea in the morning. The professor would be flooing in to the Burrow any moment, so Molly bustled around preparing the tea and setting the dining room table. They hadn't always been close friends, even after the first war, but had gotten closer since Hermione had de-aged, Molly trying to keep Minerva in the loop regarding the girl.

The floo flared green and the tall, older witch stepped into the small kitchen, brushing the soot off her robes. Molly had just finished setting the table and stepped across the room to greet her guest.

"Minerva, thanks for coming," Molly said, wrapping her in a hug.

"Of course Molly. It is good to see you," she replied.

"Well, come on, let's sit down," Molly told her, gesturing to the table.

The women sat at the table, the teapot hovering in the air, pouring on its own. They sat silently together, each preparing the tea to their preference. Once they had a few sips each, Minerva spoke.

"So, what's going on with Hermione?"

"She's not sleeping, not eating, and not interested in anything," Molly fretted. "She's lost a lot of weight too. I'm not sure what's going on or how to help her."

Minerva swore quietly, causing the other woman to look at her with concern.

"We told Albus that it was a stupid idea. And obviously he never told you to look out for signs of addiction!"

"Addiction to what?" Molly demanded.

"Time travel," Minerva answered quietly. "Albus gave her a time turner at the end of second year and took it back at the end of this last year."

"Why would he do that?" Molly asked in horror.

"Some nonsense about a prophecy. Anyways, if she used the time turner as much as Severus thinks she did, then honestly, she should have been checked into a program right away. We need to get her into a program, Molly," Minerva explained.

"Is it really that serious?"

"Yes," Minerva answered. "I can take her to St. Mungos today. The benefit to time travel addiction, is that she doesn't have a way to feed it. However, that makes the symptoms worse."

"How do you know all this?" Molly asked, slightly suspicious.

Minerva sighed.

"You cannot repeat this, but Albus has had some problems before. And Severus has been in an out of the addiction ward since she was de-aged," the older witch explained sadly.

"Well, we should go ahead and get this over with," Molly said.

Sighing, she stood from the table, crossed through the living room, and leaned against the stairs.

"Hermione, can you come down here please?" Molly gently called up the stairs.

Slowly, Hermione emerged from the room she shared. Carefully, she made her way down the creaking, crooked staircase, joining Molly at the base and following her into the kitchen.

"Hello Professor McGonagall," the girl greeted her politely.

Minerva saw the changes immediate. She was very thin and had dark circles under the eyes, but the biggest giveaway was the lack of interest or curiosity in her eyes. Hermione had always been incredibly observant, curious, and willing to question anyone, without restraint.

"Have a seat dear," Molly encouraged, pulling a chair out for her.

"Hermione, we know about the time turner," Minerva explained.

The girls shocked look in response was the first sign of emotion she'd shown all summer.

"You're not in trouble," Molly assured her.

"We think that you are suffering from time travel addiction and the withdrawal symptoms of no longer being able to partake in your addiction," Minerva added gently.

Hermione sat quietly, not responding to any of the information.

"I'd like to take you to the Addiction Ward at St. Mungos. They are skilled in the treatment of all sorts of magical and muggle addictions. They'll be able to help you get back to your normal self again," Minerva explained. "Would that be okay?"

"Okay," Hermione responded, more automatic than anything.

A quick floo trip later they stood in the addiction ward. Nurses sat down with Minerva and the young witch. They discussed the problems Hermione had been having and talked through a plan to get her back on her feet. The plan included a range of potions to boost and encourage health, therapy, and an activity schedule.

They started her out on nutrient potions and small liquid meals. For the first few weeks, she struggled with nausea, throwing up at even the slightest smell of food and barely keeping the potions down most of the time.

Additionally, since her body was so run down and defenseless, she continued to suffer from dark nightmares. Most of the time, these terrors mimicked the exact events from the Shrieking Shack and rescue of Sirius Black, occasionally memories of the battle with the troll and being petrified by the basalisk. However, she would occasionally have weird dreams, that were often blurry, but oddly vivid and real, despite never having happened.

————————————

** April 1976 **

With a heavy disalluisoning spell over them, Hermione walk along the edge of the Black Lake with him. She couldn’t see him next to her, but the familiar comfort of having him near by was all she needed to know he was there. It also helped that he had her hand firmly entangled with her smaller one. The night was quiet and peaceful, long after most of the Castle had retreated to their dorms, the full moon hanging in the sky. Despite the risk of discovery, this was one of their guilty pleasures, sneaking out to walk together by the lack, without the disbelieving stares of the student body.

As they walked together, their attention was drawn to movement around whomping willow, more than the usual nervous trembling of the branches. At this point in their walk, they were only a hundred or so yards from the tree.

She slowed to a stop as she felt the pull indicating that he had stopped to watch what was happening. Out of the middle of nowhere, a young black haired boy appeared briefly, before transforming into a large black dog. The dog darted into the range of the willow, expertly avoiding the branches until it disappeared into an opening at the base. A moment later the tree became unnaturally still, and a second dark haired boy appeared and hurried to the opening at the base of the tree.

Intrigued, they both started for the willow at the same time, moving quickly across the yard as one, hands still clasped, so that they didn’t lose each other. The willow had started to resume it’s trembling and swatted at them when they reached it’s boundry. Quickly, they darted towards where they had seen the boys disappear, losing contact with each other as they avoided the swings branches.

Hermione made it to the opening at the base of the tree first, sliding in and coming away mostly unscathed. She looked around to see if she could figure out what had caused the tree to stop moving, but a moment later, he slid into the hole right behind her, his lean body pressed against her. Squeezing his hand gently, she canceled her spell at the same time he did. The tall, dark boy that stood beside her, appeared vaguely familiar, but fuzzy around the edges like the other boys had.

As if nothing was wrong, she led the way down the dirt tunnel, dipping far beneath the ground, as well as close to the surface at points, before coming to a closed wooden door at the end. Leaning close to the door, she could hear talking within. Gently, she moved to open the door just a hair, before she heard a low, feral growl from within the room. The crack revealed a fully turned werewolf, his inteligent amber eyes studying the door. She gasped at the sudden attention of the creature, and in that moment it lunged at the door.

“Run!” She shouted to her companion, throwing her back against the door, while similtaniously pushing him back down the tunnel.

He did as he was told and she was just about to follow him, when the door blasted open into her back, throwing her into the tunnel. The large, brown haired creature hovered over her briefly, another low growl in his throat. Completely on instinct, she shifted forms. Where a young woman had crouched in terror before, a large black creature fluttered nimbly in the air. The large black bat flapped it’s wings excitedly in the small space before diving towards the face of the fearsome beast.

One big heavy paw, swatted at the creature, too slow to catch the bat, that had gone from a potential meal to a meer annoyance. The wolf could still smell the fear of the human that had fled down the tunnel, but every time he tried to get past, the black bat would dive at his face again. Annoyed and resigned to the fact that his prey had gotten away, the wolf turned back to the shack. The black bat’s senses could make out the large black dog and an even larger stag in the room that he wolf retreated to.

With no reason left to stick around, she flew back down the tunnel and out into the night. She soared high above the willow before circling back around. On the grounds, just outside of the range of the tree, a massive, black stallion reared up on his hind legs. She felt a warmth in her chest that he had remembered that werewolves specifically scented for human prey while in their wolf form. Playfully, she alighted upon the stallion’s nose briefly before taking to the air again.

————————————

After the first few weeks, she was able to get more and more potions and foods down. After that inital period of struggling, she quickly progressed to larger meals with no episodes of vomiting.

Once they got Hermione eating again, they increased her daily activity. While not really big into exercise originally, she found that a healthy exercise routine to build muscle helped reduce the irritation cause by no longer time traveling. The small gym worked well and one of the nurses had started teaching her some basic muggle self-defense. Even though she spent a good deal of her days exercising and working with a councilor, she still had some extra time, which she spent devouring books on healing magics she had managed to bum off the spell damage ward.

Once she started eating again and the essential nutrients and vitamins levels in her body had stabilized, her energy had returned. With the return of her general health, the nightmares became more infequent. After a couple of months, they had deemed her good enough to return to the Burrow. They had reminded her time and time again that she wasn't cured, but that she had the tools to cope now. The nurses and councilors of the ward had also taught her to look for warning signs of relapse, for the depression and anxiety and got her to promise she would return if she needed it.

Back home at the Burrow, nothing had changed. Molly had explained it away as her visiting with a long-lost grandparent, leaving it up to Hermione to decide if she wanted to tell them herself. For the time being, she had chosen to keep it to herself. Besides, the Weasleys were too revved up for the impending World Cup to notice much.

———————

** December 16, 1994 **

Hermione marveled at the interior of the great hall as she arrived for the Yule Ball, unaware of her classmates gawking at her. Magic had transformed the hall into a spectacular ice castle. The floor was as smooth and crystal clear as a frozen lake, while massive, glistening icicles hung from the ceiling, charmed to stay in place. Several ginormous pines had been brought in from the Forbidden Forest and were decked out in ornaments, each representing one of the four houses of Hogwarts and one each for Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. A magical snow had settled in a pristine layer amount the branches of the trees. Despite the snowy atmosphere however, the hall was pleasantly warm.

Tearing her gaze from the decorations, she caught the dazed looks of Harry and Ron, both acting as if they had just realized for the first time that she was a girl. She had found a spell to help tame her hair, the usually bushy mess falling in gentle waves around her shoulders. The lacy layers of her dress fell around her, alternating in blue and purple, creating a soft periwinkle color. At Ginny's insistence, she had applied a little bit of make-up. Apparently, that was all it had taken to send the while hall into whispers of disbelief.

Thankfully, it wasn't long until her gaze landed on her date for the night. Victor Krum cut an impressive figure in his red robes with fur trim. He smiled broadly at her and bowed slightly as he stood before her. It was only moments later that the students had been called to order and the champions herded to the middle of the dance floor with their dates.

The music started and Victor led her across the crystalline floor with a grace that surprised her. Despite being a supreme flier, Victor often seemed awkward on land, though Hermione was thankful that did not extend to his dancing.

After the first few minutes of the song, others joined in the dance. Dumbledore escorted Madam Maxine onto the dance floor, leading the charge. Shortly after Neville and Ginny had joined and then the hall was full of couples dancing. After having danced with Victor for a while, Harry had cut in, wanting to dance with his friend and at least try and enjoy the ball. While not anywhere near as graceful as Krum, Harry wasn't terrible. He had only stepped on her feet once, making Hermione thankful that she had given in and practiced with him some. She had coaxed Ron into dancing with her next and instantly had regretted it as he stumbled across the dance floor, almost causing her to twist her ankle. Luckily for her, George cut in, rescuing her from his clumsy younger brother. Finally, she was spun around the hall with Fred before begging off to get a drink.

Victor had met up with a few of his friends while she had danced with the men, she considered brothers. From her place at the drinks table, she surveyed the crowd while she sipped her pumpkin juice. Fred and George had gone back to their dates, though switching partners seamlessly and often enough it was hard to tell who was with who. Dumbledore had just finished dancing with Professor McGonagall and was dragging Professor Sprout into the floor. Ginny waved enthusiastically at Hermione as she danced with Harry for the moment, though Neville was moving to intercept.

Then Hermione's eyes landed on Professor Snape, standing on his own to the side of the dance floor, looking almost sad. He was watching her and their gaze locked for a moment across the room before he looked away. She suddenly felt her body tugging her ever so gently in his direction and her mind wondered if he'd like to dance. At first, she just shook her head and smiled, thinking she was being silly and that someone must have spiked the pumpkin juice. It wasn't long though before she was skirting the dance floor towards the tall, dark professor, thinking it rude that no one seemed inclined to dance with him.

"Good evening, Professor," Hermione greeted, smiling up at him.

"Miss Granger," he acknowledged with a nod, avoiding her gaze.

"Would you care to dance, Professor Snape?" She asked sweetly.

"That would be inappropriate, Miss Granger," Snape declared.

"What is inappropriate about a dance Professor?" She inquired. "And it can't be just because you're a teacher. Fred and George both escorted Professor McGonagall AND Professor Flitwick around the dance floor earlier."

While Severus took a minute to come up with some kind of rebuttal, Hermione listened to the strong urge and simply took his hand, pulling him out in the floor with her. Since his options were to either dance with Hermione or make a scene, Severus adjusted the positioning of his hands and took the lead, waltzing her around the room. Hermione gasped in surprise at the seamless and sudden change in control.

"You are a wonderful dancer, Professor Snape," she praised him. "It's a crime for you to be hiding in corners."

Severus couldn't help, but catch her eyes and feel like he was falling into their depths. She smiled at him and he melted. He wanted to pull her into him, hold her close and never let her go. But she wasn't his Hermione, not yet. He uncomfortably cleared his throat.

"Yes, everyone is lining up to dance with the greasy dungeon bat," he sneered.

"Well, they are missing out, which works out just fine because I get to enjoy you all myself," she retorted.

He couldn't tell if she was teasing him or flirting with him, though he suspected the former. Pushing it from his mind though, he forced himself to simply enjoy the dance and her company. It had been so long, his body ached for his Hermione, just to hold her close. Even though it wasn't quiet his witch, he enjoyed the easy companionship and innocent touches.

In the corner of the room, Minerva watched as Severus led Hermione across the dance floor, with a wide smile on her face. Hermione's body seemed to remember dancing, even if her mind had forgotten, and she moved gracefully. The wizard stiff and formal, he was torn between enjoying himself and reminding himself that she didn't remember him yet.

Minerva had to give herself the credit for Severus' skill, since he had been awkward and clumsy before she's forced him into lessons before the wedding. Smiling, the older witch remembered another ball from many years before.

————————

** October 31, 1973 **

"I can't believe he finally asked me, mum," Hermione said, sitting at the vanity in Minerva's chambers. "It took him long enough that I thought I was going to have to ask him myself."

"Go easy on the poor boy, my dear. You know how hard his life has been. He has loads of talent, but not a lot of confidence," Minerva explained, running a brush through the girl's bushy mane.

Hermione got frustrated as the brush caught on another tangle and pulled her wand from her sleeve, quickly spelling the mass into submission.

"Kill joy," Minerva muttered. "You know I love your hair natural."

"I know, but Lily is coming to get me in half an hour, to walk down to the hall together."

"Fine," the older witch conceded, running the brush gently through the now wavy hair, before pulling roughly half of it back into a low pony tail, letting the rest hang free.

"And I know all that about Severus, which I why I didn't march up to him on the day Professor Dumbledore announced the ball and asked him," Hermione explained. "I had to suffer through Black asking me to the dance because I waited! I suffered through detention!"

"Which you earned," Minerva told her sternly. "It would be wise not to remind me of these things or you might not be going to the dance."

"It was just an engorgio," Hermione muttered, disappearing into the closet for her dress

"On his tongue! The poor boy couldn't speak and nearly passed out," Minerva scolded.

"Well, he deserved it."

"Enough. Peace child," Minerva pleaded. "Let us just enjoy the night ahead. You have a sharp, talented, savvy young man on your arm tonight! Now let me see you!"

Hermione stepped out of the closet, sporting a short-sleeved, floor length, emerald green dress robes, with a moderately low back. While she had grown into a young woman quite rapidly over the summer, the dress made her look quite a bit older.

"Oh, my dear, you look amazing," Minerva gushed. "Not that I approve of Slytherin green, but that boy won't know what hit him."

Hermione blushed and was saved from coming up with a response by a knock at the door. The younger witch rushed to answer it, revealing the young, red-headed Gryffindor in deep, wine-red dress robes with three-quarter length sleeves and a lacy skirt.

"Oh, Mione! You look amazing," Lily greeted her. "Hello Professor."

"Miss Evans," Minerva greeted. "You look splendid this evening."

"Thank you, Professor."

"Alright girls, have fun. I'll see you down in the great hall in a bit," Minerva said, ushering them on their way.

"Thanks mum," Hermione whispered, hugging the older witch briefly before taking off with Lily.

Later on that night, Minerva had watched as her daughter danced with her date, Severus Snape. The fast friendship between the two had seemed odd at first, to the older witch. There was a long-standing rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin, which was quickly passed on to the younger students. However, as Minerva had gotten to know, not only Hermione, but also Severus, she could see how well they fit together. Trying to keep up with academic conversations between those two was a mental exercise for some of the older students, easily making them outcasts in their own year. However, the companionship they found in each other seemed to be enough.

Minerva winced as Severus stumbled across the dance floor with her daughter. He wasn't completely hopeless, but it was somewhat painful to watch. Though, the two students smiled widely at each other as they moved across the floor.

————————

The song ended and Severus glided to a stop, bowing slightly to the young witch as he disengaged himself.

"Thank you for dancing with me, Professor," Hermione said earnestly, ignoring the baffled looks of students around her.

"You're welcome, Miss Granger," he said stiffly, before adding quietly, "thank you for asking."

The wizard swept away before she could respond. Smiling softly to herself, she couldn't help but think fondly of the dance with him, however brief. While, other students constantly complained about his class, she simply saw a protective instructor trying to keep students from getting hurt. True, he was a definitely biased towards his Slytherins, but as head of house, why wouldn't he be? In all honesty, Professor McGonagall was biased towards Gryffindor, she was just not a blatantly obvious about it.

Before any of her friends could accost her and question her sanity for dancing with the moody professor, Victor stepped in and swept her into another dance as the music started playing again.

Dark eyes watched from the edge of the room as the Bulgarian stepped back in. He fought the strong surge of jealousy back down, pushing his back against the wall. Severus' hands still tingled from where he had held her and he growled in irritation, fighting the part of himself that argued he shouldn't desire a student like that. His heart however insisted that he wasn't desiring a student, he was desiring his wife, the way she had been before their life had been turned upside down.

The night wore on and the crowd in the great hall dwindled as students headed back to their dormitories and couples snuck off to quieter parts of the castle. Krum led Hermione through two more songs before gently escorting her out of the hall on his arm. The front doors of the castle were still wide open, the icy gardens conjured for the event most likely hiding several couples. The two walked arm and arm across the lawn and down to the lake, where a section had been magically transformed into a small pond for ice skating, a few benches spread about. Earlier in the night, it had been bustling with activity, now, they were the only two out.

They sat down together on one of the benches, watching the Durmstrang ship's sails gently sway in the light breeze. Hermione shivered, provoking Victor to cast a warming charm around them. No words were spoken between the two as she snuggled in close to him. Wrapping an arm around her, Victor leaned in. With his other hand, he gently lifted her face before leaning in and pressing his lips against hers.

Hermione leaned in to the kiss, her body responding to his attentions. The feeling in the back of her mind awoke with great urgency. It pushed at her, trying to break to the front of her thoughts, screaming at her. Wrong, it insisted, this is wrong! The witch brushes the feeling aside, assuming it was simply her loyalty to Harry against his competitor. She fought to shut her brain off and just feel, granting access to her mouth as Krum sought entrance.

The kiss escalated to passionate rapidly, Victor wrapping her tightly in his arms. Before she knew what was happening, he had laid her down on the bench, his rough hand traveling up the outside of her thigh. She had been so distracted, trying to silence her brain and just enjoy herself, she hadn't realized she'd been trapped beneath his heavy weight.

Alarm bells started to go off and she tried to push against him, one hand against his chest, the other attempting to remove the hand from under her dress. Turning her head to the side, she broke the kiss, but he simply buried his face in her neck, kissing and nipping his way along the exposed skin.

"Victor," she said, breathing heavily, "this is too much."

However, he continued, growling against her skin and nipping at her earlobe. Wherever she pushed against him, he pressed harder, his hand pushing further up her thigh, fingers wrapping in the band of her knickers. Roughly, he shoved a knee between her legs, pressing hard against her, grinding his prominent erection into her thigh.

"Victor, no, stop," she told him, her voice raising in panic as she pushed at him.

The older wizard simply pressed his mouth over hers again to silence her. She pressed her lips together and bucked beneath him. Her much smaller hands wrapped around his wrists, one roughly groping her breasts through the dress, the older still pulling at her underwear. The more she pushed away, the harder he fought back, and her heart raced with panic, knowing they were alone by the lake.

He pulled roughly, a loud rip in the eerily quiet night as the fabric of her underwear gave way and he pulled them from her body. His hand pushed between them, closer and closer to her core. Defiantly, she bit down on his lip as he continued to try silencing her with a kiss. Krum growled in rage, blood dripping from his torn lip. Hermione took the momentary freedom and screamed as loud as she could.

Shortly after, a massive fist slammed into the left side of her face, shutting her up and dazing her. Taking advantage of the situation, he pulled at the front of her dress, tearing it mostly away from her body, while his other hand still pressed against her core, under the skirt.

One second, her brain was trying to disconnect itself from her body, hopelessness having set in, and then the next, the heavy weight and groping hands were gone.

Krum was thrown through the air with a silent spell from the dark shadow in the night. The Bulgarian wizard landed on the hard ice of the lake with a thud, not moving. Severus Snape watched the boy for a second, making sure he didn't get back up right away, before sweeping over to the young woman on the bench. Her dress was ripped down the front, a large bruise was already blooming on the left side of her face, blood dripping from her lip, and her eyes were open, but unfocused.

Pulling his dress robes off, he gently knelt down and wrapped her in them, scooping her up into his arms. She seemed to come back to herself then, pushing, kicking, and clawing. Anything to get away from the definitely male body holding her.

"Easy Miss Granger," Severus said softly. "It's alright now. You're safe. I've got you."

His deep, silky voice soothed her and she settled, recognizing him. Her mind and body agreed with him. Safe, it assured her. Exhaustion overwhelmed her and she sank into his chest, letting that feeling of safety envelope her. Breathing in deeply, she couldn't help but notice that he smelled of pine, woodsmoke, and leather. She could identify at least three potion ingredient scents lingering the background, and her mind worked on that puzzle, avoiding the trauma she had just endured. Severus carried her up to the hospital wing. By the time they had arrived, she determined that he had been brewing pepper-up potion earlier in the day.

Entrusting her safety to Poppy, he briefly explained the situation before storming out, headed to the Headmaster's office. The trip was short and did nothing to cool his temper.

"Victor Krum assaulted Miss Granger just now, and would have raped her had I not arrived in time," Severus explained briefly, before insisting. "I want aurors brought in and charges pressed."

"Calm down Severus," Albus said. "There is no need for all of that. What exactly happened?"

"I followed Mr. Krum and Miss Granger out to the pond. He tried to force himself on her, so I stepped in," Snape growled.

"And how do you know that she wasn't a willing participant?" Dumbledore asked.

_ Because my wife wouldn't cheat on me _ , he screamed inside his head. Rationally, he knew Hermione Granger and Hermione Snape were two different people still. He couldn't really blame Hermione Granger for experimenting with boys her age, but it still hurt him more than the cruciatus to sit there and watch her.

"Because willing participants don't say 'no', 'stop', and scream," Severus responded dryly. "Krum also punched her in the face to silence her."

Albus nodded thoughtfully, wandering over to the window and peering out into the darkness.

"I want his head, Albus," the younger wizard demanded.

"You know we can't do that, Severus. We need to maintain a good relationship with Durmstrang. They've produced more than a few dark wizards and we can't risk them choosing the wrong side." Dumbledore explained.

"So, you're just going to ignore it?" Severus asked, his outrage barely contained.

"No. I'll speak to Igor tomorrow. I'll ask that he insist Mr. Krum stay away from Miss Granger for the rest of their time here. In exchange, nothing will be said about the incident."

"So, you're just going to sweep it all under the rug," Severus sneered, "typical."

Dumbledore didn't get another word in before the angry young potion master stormed out of the office.

Clad in his formal dress slacks, long-sleeve while button up, and usual dragon hide boots he departed the castle, blood boiling. All he could see was his witch leaning in to the embrace of another man. After following the pair down to the lake, he had watched for a while. Snape had seen the foreign wizard leaning in and Hermione responding to the kiss. When he couldn't take it anymore, he had left, making his way back up to the castle, the panic in her voice and her scream drawing him back.

Hermione Granger was a fifteen-year-old witch. She was allowed to interact with boys, experience and experiment things of a sexual nature. It was expected. The girls in her dorm in Gryffindor tower probably talked about nothing but sex. He had no reason to blame her for that, since as far as she knew, she had always only been Hermione Granger. She didn't remember.

However, his anger insisted that he didn't have to be held to the saintly standards he had kept so far. She had chosen to leave him, so if she was with other men, why couldn't he be with other women?

Reaching the apparition point outside the gates of Hogwarts, he quickly spun on his heel, and with a loud pop, disappeared. Snape arrived just moments later in a dark alleyway, standing in a puddle of spilled beer. He glared down at his boots with disgust before noticing the pool of urine and pile of vomit nearby, and deciding it could have been worse. Emerging from the alley, he stepped onto a mostly empty street, lights only pouring from the doors of a few establishments, the closest of which sounded like it had a full-blown brawl happening. Sneering, he watched as a burly wizard was ejected from the front door. Knockturn Alley really was for the lowest of the low. That night, he felt he fit that description.

Snape stepped over the passed-out wizard and strode down the alley, passing mostly closed and empty businesses. It didn't take long to arrive at a more lit section, home to a few bars, but mostly brothels, the scantily clad women flocking to every single wizard or witch. Severus pushed his way into one of the businesses, shaking off the desperate grasps of most of the women. Once inside, he scanned the room, noticing many couples sat at tables, partaking in acts better suited for private locations. He eyed the bar, crossing over to claim a stool, ordering a double fire whiskey. Three glasses later, his anger still coursed through him, and he looked around the room taking in the various working girls. 

A tall blonde by the hearth, caught his attention. Her light hair was cut short, pixie style. Despite short heels, she was almost as tall as he was, with clear blue eyes that pierced him when she caught his gaze. In short, she was the exact opposite of the witch he was trying to forget. Striding up to her, he looked her up and down, not overly caring that she wore little more than a bra and panties.

"How much?" Snape asked.

"15 galleons," she insisted.

Placing the coins on her hand, he held her grasp.

"Somewhere private?" He asked.

The witch nodded, tugging on the hand he still held, leading him up the stairs behind her. Once within one of the upstairs rooms, he pushed her down to her knees in front of him, leaning himself back against the door. The whore tucked the money away before unbuckling the leather belt at his waist, and slipping the buttons of his trousers loose. Pushing his pants and underwear down around his thighs, she pulled his limp cock free.

She arched a judgmental eyebrow up at the simmering wizard. Snarling, he grabbed at her hair, pushing her face into his crotch. She slipped his flaccid member between her lips, suctioning in and out, trying to bring it to life. Severus threw his head back against the door, trying to focus on the feeling of her lips on him. He tried to ignore the image of Hermione popping up in his head, her expression of hurt and disappointment. Growling he opened his eyes, looking down at the blond hair in his hand, thrusting his hips towards her. She sucked harder, her teeth grazing along his cock, her lips pulling, tugging, stoking, trying everything to coax it to life. No matter what she tried, he stayed completely limp.

"You've got to put some effort in too," she snickered.

Disgusted, he pushed her away, pulled his pants back up before throwing the door open, and storming out. He only stopped at the bar downstairs long enough to buy a whole bottle of fire whiskey. Once outside of the establishments, he apparated, dropping himself in the snow, outside of the castle gates. 

Growling in annoyance, he entered the grounds and made his way back across the lawn. By the time he reached the castle, the cold and the walk had sapped away the anger, leaving only disappointment, guilt, and loneliness. The buzz from the fire whiskey was wearing off as well, only making all of those feelings worse.

Changing direction, he headed up the stairs, towards the seventh floor. Two corridors over from the fat lady, Severus knocked on a solid wooden door with a lion's head metal knocker. The door opened moments later, the older witch seeing the dejected look on his face and full bottle of alcohol in his hands, and ushered him in. Steering him to the couch, she sat him down and he soon found himself wrapped in a warm tartan blanket, with the fire blazing in front of him. Minerva sat in the chair by the sofa, silently waiting. She didn't try to take the bottle, she didn't speak. She waited for him to make the first move.

Sighing heavily, he set the bottle of fire whiskey on the table in front of the couch, then buried his face in his hands. The deep choking breaths gave away his sobs, but still Minerva just waited. When he lifted his face, the red rims and damp eyelids gave him away, but he was better composed.

"Hermione was attacked by Krum tonight," Severus told her.

"Poppy flooed and told me after she had gotten her taken care of and settled down," Minerva explained.

Severus nodded, his head working up and down as if he was chewing on his next words before spitting them out.

"Albus isn't going to do anything about it," he declared, spitting out the Headmaster's name hatefully.

"I know. I stormed up to his office as well after speaking with Poppy," Minerva growled. "Useless old goat. Playing politics has always been more important than people."

Severus snorted in agreement, ready to wring the old man's throat.

"Have you been drinking?" Minerva asked softly, eyeing the still sealed bottle on the table, not even the slightest bit of judgement in her tone, just concern.

"Yes, several glasses of fire whiskey at the bar, and then the bottle,” he answered softly, hanging his head. "I intended to take it back to my chambers, but my feet led me here."

Minerva just nodded. "So, what happened, my boy? Something is bothering you."

Severus shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not sure where to start or if he even really wanted to talk about it with his mother-in-law. However, she'd been his pillar of strength in his lowest. His feet had led him to her for a reason he told himself.

"I had followed her and Krum out by the lake, to keep an eye on her since it was late. She reciprocated," he said, choosing his words carefully. "Everything looked consensual, so I headed back to the castle. I couldn't watch that."

Minerva nodded in understanding. She was a teenage girl, flattered by the attentions of an older boy and at the age where she would be curious. While, this situation with Hermione was painful for Minerva, it was excruciating for him. Realistically, Hermione wasn't being unfaithful to him, since she didn't remember him, but to him, it must feel that way. It was a tangled web that Albus had woven.

"I only turned back when I heard her tell him to stop and then scream. I could have ripped the boy to pieces when I saw him hit her," Severus growled. "Taking care of her was my first priority though."

Severus paused briefly.

"After talking to Albus, my anger at him morphed into anger at her. I know she doesn't remember, but all I could thinking was, how could she do that to me," Severus demanded. "I ended up in Knockturn Alley, at the Gilded Rose."

Minerva simply let him talk and open up to her, knowing that was what he needed. She knew what kind of establishment it was, but didn't feel the need to comment or judge.

"I was just so angry and it felt like the only way I could get back at her," Severus admitted sadly. "I sat at the bar for a bit, then I ended up in a room with ... uhm ... one of the women. Nothing really happened. Despite my anger ... I, uh ... couldn't perform."

His face was red with embarrassment from talking about this with not only a colleague and the woman who taught him, but also the adoptive mother of the wife he had attempted to be unfaithful to. However, he knew she wouldn't judge him. If anything, she was the only one that would really understand. The hand she placed on his forearm and gentle squeeze assured him of that.

"So, I stormed out, bought the bottle on the way out and intended to drink myself to oblivion, but I couldn't," Snape explained the last of it quickly. "And here I am."

"I'm glad you came here instead of drinking the bottle," Minerva assured him, squeezing him arm gently once more. "I know you didn't really want to hurt her. Just like I know she'd never want to hurt you."

Severus nodded.

"I just don't know how she expected me to do this," he complained.

"Yes, well, it's not the first time we've realized this plan was not well thought through. As much as I love that girl, she has a lot to answer for when she comes back to us," Minerva grumbled. "Until then, I think we might just have to settle for fantasies of strangling Albus."

Severus chuckled.

“Are you concerned that you might drink again?” Minerva asked.

“I don’t know. I feel sick with myself for stumbling again. I don’t think I will, but things keep happening to push me further to the edge,” Severus admitted.

“Well, then I think you should come take with me daily until you think you are in the clear from this incident,” Minerva suggested. “Does that sound alright? Helpful?”

“Probably,” Severus agreed.

Minerva vanished the bottle of alcohol with a flick of her wand and then snapped her fingers, summoning a Hogwarts elf.

"Tea for us please, Mipsy," Minerva requested, smiling gently at the elf.

With a pop, the little creature was gone, but only for an instant as she popped back in with a tray of tea. She set the tray upon the table, popping out of the room again. Minerva set to making tea for the two of them, handing Severus a cup fixed to his preferences.

"Now, a cup of tea to calm us down, then a good night of sleep," Minerva said. "We have more to deal with tomorrow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so, did you read the chapter? Or jump to the end notes? If you jumped, go back and read, trust me, it’s better this way!
> 
> ————————————
> 
> Alright, still here? Cool. Anyways, so there you have it. Thanks for the guesses on animagus form! Some of you might be wondering, “ummm, uh, what?!”
> 
> Now, I won’t blatently say it here, but in my research here is what I dug up to base this off and the differences between the way the characters have changed based on my telling.
> 
> \- Hermione: Rebirth, Journeying, Transitioning, Past lives, understanding grief, changes for better, higher calling
> 
> \- Severus: Driving force, balance between instinct and tamed, masculine energy, strong/passionate emotions, appetite for freedom


	12. The Second Challenge

** December 28, 1975 **

Hermione laid partially on top of Severus in her bed, legs intertwined, as she planted gentle kisses along his jaw line. Severus wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight against him as he captured her lips in a light kiss. She teased his mouth open with short, barely there swipes of her tongue against the seam of his lips before delving in with unrestrained passion.

He groaned in appreciation before shifting uncomfortably below her, his now full-fledged erection straining painfully against his jeans. She shifted her position, sliding even more on top of him as she ground her own jean clad center against him. Hermione slipped her hands between them, quickly unbuckling his belt and then starting on his jeans.

Snape broke the kiss, breathing heavily, as he stilled her hands with his own. She looked up at him with large amber eyes, chewing nervously on her kiss swollen and reddened bottom lip. His member strained even more against its confinements and he internally groaned.

"Your mum is just down the hall, Hermione," he reminded her gently, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Muffliato," she said, flicking her wand at the door, a mischievous smirk on her face.

She added a locking spell as well before setting her wand back down, intending to resume her exploration.

Snape panicked, forcing his hands between them to buckle his belt as he looked around wildly, as if expecting an owl to burst through the window.

"Calm down," Hermione insisted.

"You aren't allowed to do magic outside of Hogwarts yet! The trace," Severus insisted.

"One of the perks of being from the future is that apparently, the Ministry doesn't have a record of me. Therefore, no trace," Hermione said with a shrug, the truth about her had been a long conversation at the beginning of the school year.

Sliding off of him, she sat up cross legged on the bed, watching him with an amused expression on her face. Despite their former closeness and the still noticeable bulge in his jeans, she knew he would have questions. Until his questions were answered, they wouldn't get back to where they were, so she patiently waited for him to ask. It was one of the things she loved about him.

"When did you find this out?" He asked, wildly curious.

"First year," she told him. "Mum brought me here for Christmas and I spent a lot of time in the library trying to get home. When I cast a spell here and nothing happened, I started researching the trace. It triggers and registers with the Ministry with a witch or wizard is chosen by their wand. The magical signature is large enough and distinct enough. Since my wand matched to me in the future, no trace."

Severus had sat up as well, legs spread out in front of him as he leaned against the headboard. He was thoroughly captivated as she shared this bit of knowledge with him.

"How do they track accidental magic in children?" He asked, having never really looked in to it. "Especially in cases where muggles are concerned?

"Accidental magic is also particularly potent, even the mildest of spells. There are spells designed to pick up these signatures and target the location. It also will list a number of muggle witnesses. The Ministry keeps track of magical children this way, so that every instance of accidental magic isn't an emergency."

"Geeze, that seems really invasive," Severus muttered.

"All for the statute of secrecy," she muttered, clearly annoyed.

After a few minutes of silence, Severus asked, "Were you really trying to leave?"

She sighed and leaned in to him, pulling his arms around herself and snuggling up against his chest.

"I missed my real mum and dad," she admitted. "Dumbledore said he would look for a way to get me back, but doubted he would find anything because they weren't entirely sure what kind of magic transported me to this time in the first place. Still, I wanted to try, so I searched the library at Hogwarts. I had stopped after the first month, but coming here and having a whole new library to search, sparked a need to try again."

"I would have missed you," Severus admitted. "If you'd left. We weren't close then because I was so damn suspicious, but I would have missed you."

"You're a huge part of the reason I stopped looking and I came to terms with it," Hermione confided in him.

Gently, he lifted her head, before bringing his lips down to meet hers again. The chaste, healing kiss, quickly turned into a heated one, with Hermione on her knees and turned into his body, leaning against him. Breaking away from her, he kissed her forehead, panting softly.

"Now, where were we?" He smirked.

"Oh, I think somewhere around here," she observed innocently, sitting back onto her heels, hands at work.

She unbuckled his belt and then popped the button on his jeans, sliding the zipper down slowly. As the two sides of denim spread apart, his cock surged forward within his underwear, grateful for the freedom. Holding on to the belt loops, she tugged down gently and he lifted his hips obediently, helping her remove the item of clothing. Moving with the jeans, she slid down his body, pushing the pants off, past his already bare feet, before sliding back up to him, purposely rubbing her chest and grinding her hips into his erection.

Straddling him, she leaned in to kiss him, working her hands up under his shirt and pushing it up. They broke the kiss only long enough for her to pull the garment over his head, tossing it across the room. Her hands splayed themselves across the smooth expanse of his bare chest as their tongues fought for dominance.

Severus, allowed his hands to stray from her hips, drifting up under her shirt. His long fingers splayed across her warm stomach, making her blood feel like it was boiling wherever they touched. Agonizingly slow, his hands crept up her torso, his fingers played across every available inch of skin. Her shirt bunched up around his wrists as they trekked upwards. When he finally reached her lace covered breasts, she was panting too hard to keep up the kiss. With his mouth free, he leaned into her neck, kissing, licking, and nibbling as his fingers traced her rapidly hardening nubs through the fabric.

He continued to move slowly, trying her patience. She reached down and grabbed the hem of her tee shirt, yanking it over her head, and smacking him in the face accidently as she went. Tossing it off to the side, she planted soft kisses across his jokingly affronted face, before tangling her hands in his long hair and pulling his face down to her chest. He chuckled softly before teasing her nipples through the lace with his tongue. She threw back her head and moaned while grinding against his hard member, causing Severus to groan against her chest. His hands skimmed across her back, finding the bra clasp and quickly unhooking it. Hermione helped by dragging the straps down her arms, discarding it among the rest of their scattered clothes.

Catching her unaware, Severus flipped their positions, twisting her flat on her back on the bed, with him hovering over her. Gathering one breast in his hand, his fingers skated over the nipple, while he descended on the other breast with his mouth. Sucking her breast into his mouth, he flicked his tongue back and forth over the nipple, causing her to thrash and thrust beneath him. Switching sides, he gave the other breast the same treatment before grinning up at her between the mounds of flesh.

"You, my dear, have entirely too much clothing on," Severus teased.

He spoke slowly, enunciation the words, and using the deep, smooth tone, that his voice had evolved into over the summer, to his advantage. Snape knew that his voice drove her wild, especially when they were fooling around, even if she wouldn't admit it.

Slowly, he kissed, nipped, and tongued his way down her body. He nipped and sucked at the bottom of her rib cage, soothing the slight sting with his tongue. Grinning to himself, he veered away from her belly button, knowing her ticklish spots, instead placing wet kisses along one side, and then the other, meeting the waistband of her jeans on both sides. His fingers worked to unbutton her jeans, while his mouth sucked a little red mark into the skin of her right hip. She had reached down to lower the zip, but he had gently batted her hands away.

"Patience, sweetheart," he muttered, into the skin beneath the now open button.

She shivered, clasping her hands behind her head to keep them out of trouble. However, she couldn't help that her hips bucked up into his face. He chuckled, that deep rumble that made her melt for him. There had been nothing wrong with his voice before, it had just been boyish, with the occasional cracking or squeaking as it was changing. Now, his voice was a deep, silky, smooth baritone, that sent chills down her spine and caused frequent wet spots on her underwear. He had a knack for making the most mundane things sound suggestive.

Slowly, his tongue snaked out, first simply licking his lips, only ghosting across her skin. Then it descended, tracing the small intention on her skin from the button before following the ever so slowly exposed trail down as he slid the zip down, one tine, at a time. She groaned and shivered, and moaned beneath him. His lips curled in a satisfied smirk, not only at the sounds she made, but the smell of her arousal, growing stronger as he got closer. Gently, he pulled the tight jeans down her thighs, kissing his way along the inner leg.

While he was occupied with her jeans, she reached down and shoved her panties down her legs as well. Chuckling softly, he looked up at her with an amused grin.

"Impatient, love?" Severus inquired, as if he didn't already know.

"I need to come, Severus. Please," Hermione whimpered.

Her body was on fire, her nerves tingling, and her pussy ached and throbbed almost painfully. Severus loved it when he wound her up so tight, she felt like she was going to burst, as it made her release explosive. He loved how much she wanted him. Kissing his way back up her legs, he teased the sensitive inner thigh with his tongue as he positioned himself comfortably between her legs. With a slight grimace, he adjusted his throbbing length, assuring it that he'd take care of the matter soon. With his focus back on the woman laid out before him, he blew a stream of air across her heated core, loving the way she shivered at the slightest provocation.

Leaning in, he flattened this tongue, sliding it from her opening, to her clit, and back down, entering her with the organ. She moaned and bucked and shivered, as he lapped at her sex, enjoying the smell and the taste of his witch. It wasn't long before she was close, rapidly approaching her climax. She ground her pussy into his face as he focused in on her clit, his tongue alternating between long, flat, licks, and sharp thrusts. She wrapped her hands in his long, black hair and rode his face.

"Oh gods! Oh yes! That's it, Severus, that's ..." Hermione moaned.

She encouraging him with her words until she tipped over the edge, reduced to incoherent muttering and moaning as she rode out her orgasm, legs clamps around his head. He gently kissed and licked her pussy, lapping up her juices, as she came down. When her legs relaxed, he climbed up her body, planting kisses on the way, as he settled beside her, his head on her chest.

While holding her, he slipped his hand into his boxers, stroking his eager cock, intending to fulfil his promise it give it some attention. Her hand covered his, stilling his movements, and he looked up at her.

"I want to feel you inside of me, Severus," she insisted, amber eyes watching him intently.

"Are you sure?" He asked, propping himself up to look down at her. Reminding her earnestly, "We can keep waiting. I don't mind. Really."

"I want you. Please," she begged.

His throat was dry, so he just nodded, pushing his boxers down his legs and kicking them off. Pre-cum smeared across her leg as his cock practically bounced with excitement. Positioning himself over her, she wrapped her legs around his waist, while he lined himself up with her core. Shaking the hair out of his face, he looked into her eyes, seeking reassurance and she understood, nodding her permission while chewing lightly on her bottom lip. As gently as he could, but in one motion, he thrust all the way into her passage. She gasped out in surprise and pain, but he leaned in, swallowing her cries in a passionate kiss, waiting painfully still to feel her relax around him. The grip on his cock was intense and the heat overwhelming. His body wanted to pull out and drive into her again and again, so it took all his control and a little occlumency to wait for her, listening to the advice from an older Slytherin about first times.

Slowly, the pain eased away and she started to relax around him. It wasn't until she started moving against him that he gave himself permission to move. Slowly, he pulled out most of the way, before sliding all the way back in. Breaking the kiss, he looked down at her, a smile on his face gentling the intensity of his dark gaze. With one thumb, he wiped away the tears that had dripped down her face, continuing to watch her for signs. As her body reacted to his more and more, he picked up speed. It wasn't long before his own orgasm pulled him over the edge, his seed spilling within her. What had felt like a lifetime, connected in that way, had only been a couple of minutes.

Pulling out, he wrapped her in his arms, with her head on his chest, as he dragged the blanket over them.

"Thank you," Hermione whispered.

"I'm pretty sure I need to be the one thanking you," he chuckled softly.

Laughing with him, she leaned up to kiss his cheek.

"I love you, Severus," she said.

"I love you too, Hermione," he answered.

Both were sound asleep moments later, wrapped in each other's arms. A few hours later, they were dressed again, snuggling together on her bed with books when Minerva knocked at the door.

"Yes, mum?" Hermione asked, getting up to pull the door open.

"These are for you," Minerva said, placing two books in the young girl's hands.

The top book was titled Wards of All Sorts, and had a bookmark in it, that when she opened to it, was marking the chapter titled Silencing Wards & Spells. A red tint crept onto her face, replaced by a full blush as she flipped to the second book, reading the title: Contraceptive Potions, Spells, Tips, and Tricks - Wizarding and Muggle Methods.

"While it may be useful in a crowded classroom or the great hall, muffileto isn't all that subtle in a quiet house, my dear," Minerva remarked, amused at the horrified expression on her daughter's face.

Since they had already had the discussion about the birds and the bees, the older witch left it at that, closing the door behind her and chuckling to herself. Hermione returned to the bed with the books in hand. Curiosity got the better of him, and despite his blush stained face, Severus pulled her back into his embrace, looking at the titles of the books.

Shrugging, he pulled the book on contraception from her hands, and started at the beginning. He knew that Hermione had been on the basic potion that Madam Pomfrey stocked, for a while now, but options didn't hurt. Hermione rolled her eyes at the short-lived humiliation of being caught by her mother before settling in next to him with her own book.

———————————

** December 17, 1994 **

Severus groaned groggily, the pleasant dream fading away, as he started to wake. Rolling over in the bed, he reached out his hand to the spot next to him, shocked awake by the cold, emptiness that greeted him.

Slowly, the memories penetrated his sleep addled mind. He remembered why his wife's side of the bed was empty and what was worse, he'd remembered what he had done the previous night. As quickly as he could, he lunged for the edge of the bed, purging the contents of his stomach on the cold dungeon floor. Groaning, he laid his forehead against the edge of the bed, blindly reaching around the bedside table for his wand. Upon recovering the smooth, well-worn wood, he quickly vanished the puddle of puke.

Climbing from the bed, he entered his bathroom, feeling dirty and disgusted with himself. Reaching into the shower, he turned the handle to start the water flow, before stepping over to the toilet to relieve himself while the water warmed.

He thanked magic for small graces. Growing up, in his family home, it had taken forever for the water to warm and if anyone flushed a toilet or turned on the tap, that time doubled. That wasn't the case with the magical plumbing of the castle.

Hissing, he stepped under the scalding spray of the shower. It was much hotter than he would normally tolerate, but for the purpose of burning and scrubbing away his skin, it was perfect. Grabbing a cloth and excessive amounts of soap, he proceeded to scrub his cock, long after it was raw and painful. He wanted to scrub off every trace of the woman, even to the point of considering obliviation. However, he wouldn't go that far. Severus needed to remember how stupid and weak he had been to make sure it didn't happen again.

The extreme heat mingled with his self-loathing resulted in staggering dizziness and another bout of vomiting. Leaning heavily against the wall, he heaved up several rounds of bile, his throat raw and burning like the rest of him by the time he was done. Shutting off the tap, he wrapped himself in a towel and staggered back into the bedroom, collapsing onto the bed.

The cool air of the dungeon against his raw skin had felt wonderful, driving away the dizziness. He waited just a few moments for the room to stop spinning before rising to his feet and getting ready. A quick spell dried his long hair, as he pulled his usual attire from the wardrobe. As he fastened the last of the many tiny buttons on his frock coat, he departed his rooms, sweeping his long, black teaching robes over him as he did so.

He wanted to go to the infirmary, to see her and make sure that she was alright, to hold her close to him and never let her go again. However, that was far from appropriate given his position as teacher and spy and the fact that she still didn't remember him. The thought of storming out to Karkaroff's blasted boat and tearing that boy limb from limb crossed his mind, but he could hear his wife scolding him in his mind, reminding him to act logically, not emotionally. So, his footsteps led him to Minerva's office. It was well past breakfast at that point, so he knew she would be there working on getting caught up. Tentatively, he knocked on the sturdy wood door.

"Enter," Minerva answered.

Slowly, he entered the room, shutting the door behind him, before crossing the room and collapsing into one of the chairs in front of her desk. He was grateful that the slightly cushioned chairs were much more comfortable than the guest chairs in his office, that were all hard wood and sharp edges, in order to make his guests uncomfortable and put them on edge.

"You look like hell, Severus," she noted lightly, her head still down as her quill traversed the paper in front of her.

"Good morning to you too," he grumbled. "How is she?"

Minerva knew exactly who he was talking about. She waited a moment before answering, knowing this conversation would need her full attention. She finished grading the sixth-year essay in front of her before pushing the stack off to the side. Giving him her full attention, she considered he answer.

"She's doing alright under the circumstances. Poppy healed up the couple of bruises last night and gave her a calming draught and some dreamless sleep. This morning, Hermione insisted on flooing to St. Mungo's to talk to one of the counselors there. When I met up with her after to take her to the Burrow, we talked a little bit. She's going to continue seeing the counselor through the holiday and may need to make some trips once she's back here. I told her that we would accommodate that. I also had to tell her about Dumbledore's decision regarding Krum. I think she already knew nothing would be done, but she just shrugged me off when I tried to discuss it more with her. I hope the councilors can help her. She did at least seem better than she had before she went to Mungo's," Minerva informed him, a hint of pain in her voice.

Years before, at this age, Hermione would have confided in Minerva, as her adoptive mother. They had been incredibly close with few secrets between them. Now, McGonagall was just her head of house. Hermione respected and admired her, but it wasn't the same as the bond between a mother and a daughter. The older witches heart ached to see her girl going through this without her, and mostly alone. Molly was a great parent, but Hermione didn't take to her like she had with Minerva. The relationship with Molly was more of a loving aunt to Hermione, than any real mother figure.

Severus dropped his head into his hands and growled, "She never should have been in that position in the first place. Dumbledore and his blasted mission. I know as well as he does that the Dark Lord is going to come back and we choose to battle that by sending one of our most powerful witches back to puberty!"

"Easy boy," Minerva said, walking around her desk to sit beside him, rubbing his back gently. "I agree that the old man has lost his mind, but what is done is done. All we can hope for is that we can hold out until her memory returns."

Severus sighed and looked up at her with hints of tears in his eyes. She gently brushed his hair back from his face.

"All we need to do is survive and wait. We both know war is coming. Having our Hermione back will make that easier to deal with, but things will still be dangerous," Minerva said.

Snape pulled the sleeve of his frock coat back, revealing the darker, and still darkening mark. "I fear that things will get more dangerous sooner than we'd like."

"Good will prevail," she assured him, a wicked gleam entering her eye. "And when it does, we will show Albus as bit of the hurt he's put us through in the interim."

The dark wizard looked closely at the older witch. He's seen her break down her fair share over the years, but she had always been available to help and deal with him. Looking at her now, she looked older than her years, her skin more weathered and wrinkled, the laugh lines he'd know from years ago faded, and dark circles around her eyes. Her eyes held the truth of her pain, full of loss. The loss of her natural born child, the loss of her husband, and now the loss of her adoptive daughter. Somehow, he knew that she would hold him up as much as he needed, not willing to lose him as well. Silently, Severus wondered if she had the strength to survive the coming war.

————————

** January 23, 1995 **

Breaking the surface of water broke the spell placed upon her, and Hermione gasped in a great mouth full of air, trying to clear her lungs of the oddly empty sensation the spell had caused. Treading water out of instinct, her mind was still so fogged by the spell, that she didn't make any motion until Harry latched on to her arm and pulled her towards the large platforms in the water. She didn't notice that he was dragging another, much younger girl along with them, only able to focus on the tower drawing ever closer.

They reached the ladders and the young girl went up first. Since she didn't automatically move toward the ladder, Harry grabbed her arm and pushed her upward. Many helping hands reached down and grabbed handfuls of her soaked coat to help pull her up. Her brain panicked at so many unknown hands holding her and she froze in place, but no one seemed to notice as the quickly hauled her out of the water.

Several thick, warm blankets were immediately bundled around her, shocking her out of her stupor. She looked up and found Professor Snape standing over her, tucking the blanket into her shivering hands. She smiled carefully up at him, causing his frown to deepen, but she a feeling of safety wrapped around her, just as tight and comforting as the blankets. Her mind was finally starting to clear, leaving her feeling as if she'd taken a double dose of dreamless sleep. Severus flicked his wand and she felt the magic of his spell wrap around her, drying her clothing for, so she wasn't still dripping wet in the cold Scottish weather. 

She looked up again to thank him, but the looming black shape was gone, disappeared back to Dumbledore's side, as she was pulled into Harry's wet embrace. He was also wrapped in several blankets, but still dripping. Her mind was pulled away from the old show of niceties shown by Professor Snape as Dumbledore's voice could be heard announcing the winners.

"In first place, is Mr. Diggory, who retrieved his hostage and returned the fasted. Mr. Krum returned next. However, we have been informed that Mr. Potter was first to arrive and secure his hostage, but choose to wait and make sure all of the others were collected, even bringing back the young Miss. Delacour, whose older sister was disqualified. So, we are awarding Mr. Potter second place, leaving Mr. Krum in third."

The Durmstrang students growled loudly when their champion had been regulated to third place even though he had finished before Harry. Hermione's eyes were drawn to the group, easily spotting Krum among the students. His dark eyes latched on to hers and he just smirked at her, his eyes traveling slowly up and down her body as he knew she was watching.

Hermione froze, her mind snapping back to that night, feeling helpless as she struggled beneath his much larger frame. All of her studying and researching had not helped her. Even the bit of muggle martial arts she had picked up in St. Mungo's hadn't helped in the slightest as he had tried to force himself on her. It was only luck that Professor Snape had heard her struggling and screaming and swooped in to save the day. Her body trembled as she recalled that night.

Harry stumbled into her slightly, and she jumped, before turning to see that he had only been jokingly shoved by Ron. Shaken, she turned back to her friends, trying to clear her mind and steady her breathing.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked, watching her closely.

With a lightness she didn't feel, she joked, "Of course not! Look at me, I'm freezing out here! I can't believe you were willing to let me drown, taking so long! You and your savior complex."

"Yeah, Mr. Moral Fiber," Ron scoffed.

Harry laughed and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly. His embrace didn't have the same suddenly calming effect of Professor Snape, but she felt safe in the arms of the boy who was like a brother to her. She ruffled his hair playfully and let him wrap an arm behind her back to lead her to the boats that took them back to the shore of the great lake.

It was just about lunch time as they reached the school, many of the students going directly into the great hall. She hung back from the boys. Her heart was still pounding and the press of bodies on the boat and the pathways back to the castle had made her feel anxious and jumpy. Not really wanting to be surrounded by people any longer and not really hungry, she tried to make a quick escape.

"Hey, Hermione," Harry hollered, "you coming?"

"Nah, I'm not really hungry. Dumbledore gave us a nutrition portion before casting the stasis spell, since we missed a few meals. I think I'm going to hit the library and get some work done," she lied to the boys.

"Spent all morning in the black lake, and what is the first thing she does? Hits the library!" Ron scoffed, rolling his eyes.

Hermione just smiled weakly at the boys, who shrugged and entered the hall, joining the Gryffindor table. She watched for a moment through the doors as the rest of the house surrounded and congratulated Harry, celebrating his success.

Sadly, she turned and walked up the stairs, feeling out of place and more uncomfortable than ever. Her feet led her up into the castle and to the hospital wing. She gently pushed open the door and let herself in, the squeak of her sneakers echoed in the empty chamber. A moment later, Madam Pomfrey emerged from her office at the sound. The old mediwitch had a sad, knowing smile on her face, and waited for the younger woman to speak.

"Can I go on through?" Hermione asked quietly, tilting her head in the direction of the large hearth in the room.

"Of course, dear," Poppy assured her. "Do you need anything from me before you go?"

"No thank you. I'm alright," Hermione responded, offering a smile that didn't quite reach her face.

With nothing else to say, the young witch turned and strode across the room to the fireplace. Grabbing some floo powder from the container on the mantle, she stepped in and threw the powder down, calling out her location.

"St Mungo's."

Wrapped up in the green flames, she felt comfortably warm after her dip in the Black Lake. The trip was short however, as she stepped expertly out into the lobby at St Mungo's a moment later. She felt the familiar sweep of the hospitals cleaning spell, sucking the soot from her person, before she stepped away from the fireplace.

Hermione waved softly at the older woman at the front desk as she walked past her and toward the lift without stopping. The staff were familiar with her at that point. Taking the lift down three floors, she stepped out into a t-intersection. On her left, was the addiction treatment ward, that she had spent a bit of time in the previous summer. On her right, was the counseling and mental health treatment center. It was a small operation, as very few people in the wizarding world were willing to seek help for those sorts of problems, still mostly ashamed.

However, with her muggle background, Hermione felt no shame as she stepped into the small waiting room. The young witch at the desk smiled at her gently.

"I'll let her know that you are hear," she said.

A moment later, a yellow paper airplane took flight, drifting towards the offices in the back. Five minutes later, Hermione's counselor appeared at the end of the hallway. Meredith Walton, was a tall, muggle born witch in her mid-forties, with curly red hair and kind green eyes.

"Come on back, Hermione," she beckoned from the hall.

Meredith led the younger witch through the familiar maze to her office. Ushering Hermione inside, the older witch followed, closing the door behind her. Taking a seat in her normal chair, she noticed Hermione standing at the window. As they were underground, the window merely looked out at the moderately sized gym one floor down where patients received physical therapy and other activity related therapies. Hermione didn't seem to be watching anything specifically, really just staring out to space, most likely organizing her thoughts.

"Would you like to take a seat?" Meredith asked gently.

Hermione turned from the window, her eyes at first, still far away, but they quickly refocused. Striding across the room, the young woman took a seat on the mid-sized cream couch. Perched on the edge, she leaned into her knees, her hands fidgeting in front of her.

"So, what's going on?"

"Today was the second task for the Tri-Wizard Tournament," Hermione explained softly.

Meredith simply nodded her head, having kept up with the tournament in the Daily Prophet and with her patient. She remembered with amusement that the young, bushy haired witch had almost blown a gasket at some of Rita Skeeter's articles.

"The second task was for each of the champions to retrieve their most important person from the mermaid settlement deep within the Black Lake," Hermione continued to explain, more comfortable with the facts for the moment. "So, Dumbledore rounded us up last night, gave us a nutrition potion and dreamless sleep before putting each of us under a stasis spell and depositing us in the lake at some point."

"So, which champion were you the most important person for?" The counselor asked, already knowing the answer, but wanting to prompt Hermione into digging deeper.

"Harry, of course. Silly boy arrived at the captives first, but waited to make sure everyone else was retrieved. Fleur had been disqualified, so when she didn't show up for her hostage, Harry insisted on saving us both," Hermione explained, a fond smile on her face.

"Is that what is bothering you?"

"No," Hermione admitted. "The mixture of potions and stasis spell made me feel really weird for a while after they broke. I wasn't able to concentrated on getting out of the lake and many people had grabbed onto my jacket and pulled me out."

Meredith just sat quietly while Hermione paused, waiting for her to continue on her own.

"It made me panic and I felt uncomfortable being that out of it and crowded by people I didn't immediately recognize," Hermione explained. "Once we were out of the water, we were each wrapped in blankets. I don't know why, but I suddenly felt comfortable and safe. I looked up to find Professor Snape tucking the blankets around me. He also spelled my clothes dry, which was nice, but odd since the rest of the champions and captives still had wet clothes."

She paused for a moment.

"He left and Harry pulled me close. It was a much different feeling, but I still felt comfortable with him. When they announced the winner, I looked over at the Durmstrang group and saw Victor staring at me. It was the first time I'd really seen him since the incident and his look made my skin crawl. I felt panicked again, wanting to run and get away."

"Why does Victor cause you feel that way, when you know he's been forbidden from approaching you again?" Meredith asked.

"It reminds me of what happened. It makes me feel weak and defenseless. Being the brightest witch of my age and learning some muggle self-defense did nothing," Hermione scoffed. "He was just so much bigger and stronger, I couldn't budge him and any time I tried to object or fight back, he easily disabled me. I remember feeling dazed a majority of the time."

"Unfortunately, at your age, you aren't learning to defend yourself against attackers magically or physically. It's not a fault within you, but rather a fault of the system. I might help you to feel better and more comfortable again to find someone to teach you more advanced magic, combined with physical defense. We both know you're smart enough and powerful enough to learn it," Meredith suggested. “Is there someone at Hogwarts who could help you?"

Hermione sat quietly and thought about it for a moment. The first thing that came to mind was Snape soundly beating Lockhart at the Dueling Club in second year. She smiled at the memory.

"Professor Snape would probably be able to. Sure, he teaches potions, but it's no secret that he wants the defense position. However, he's Head of Slytherin House and had made it no secret he despises myself and my friends. I doubt he'd be willing to help," Hermione offered, clearly disappointed.

"If he dislikes you so much, then why have you several times said that he makes you feel safe and comfortable when he is around?" Meredith asked.

"I don't really know. I guess he's saved Harry, Ron, and me often enough. And he saved me from Victor. Every time I really think about it though, I feel blocked, like I'm hitting a wall inside my head," Hermione attempted to explain.

"Well, then how do you feel about Professor Snape?"

"I respect him. He's incredibly smart and I admire that. He's saved me several times, so I feel grateful. Yeah, he can be mean, cruel, and hurtful sometimes, but he doesn't exactly have things easy, with losing his wife a few years ago," Hermione explained. "The boys constantly disrespect him and complain about him and it annoys me."

"Well, maybe you should ask him about giving you extra lessons and see how that goes. If that doesn't work out, we might be able to find someone here that has some time, but getting help from someone at Hogwarts will be much more convenient," Meredith explained. "Now, how do you feel about being Harry's most important person?"

"Eh, I consider him a brother, like I do the Weasleys," Hermione shrugged.

"And do you think he considers you to be like a sister to him?" She asked.

"I guess. We're best friends: me, him, and Ron," the young witch answered. "I've never asked him."

"But if you are all best friends, then why you over Mr. Weasley?" Meredith inquired.

"I guess because I understand him a bit better. We both lost our families and were pretty much adopted by the Weasleys," Hermione explained.

"And what if his feelings for you are more than that of a brother?" Meredith pushed.

Hermione sat quietly for a moment, her exterior giving off the same calm, sadness. However, internally she was panicking. Did Harry like her that way? She wasn't sure how to handle that possibility.

"Hermione," her counselor gently pushed again.

"I don't know," the young girl whispered, her voice catching with fear. "I'm not ready for anyone to feel that way about me, much less me feel that way about someone. I still have nightmares of Victor on top of me, being unable to move or fight back or scream. I don't know how to feel like that for someone again and not be afraid of being taken advantage of.”

"It will come with time," Meredith assured her. "You've lived through more than any fifteen-year-old should have to. Give yourself time. Learning how to protect yourself better should help, so make sure you pursue that."

"And if Harry does approach me?" Hermione whispered.

"If it's before you are ready to consider that kind of relationship again, then you tell him what you told me. If he's your friend, like you say, he'll understand. If you are ready, don't double guess yourself."

Hermione sat quietly for a time, considering everything that had been discussed. Meredith let her sit for a bit before looking up at the clock on the wall.

"You should get back to Hogwarts," Meredith encouraged her. "I know it's Saturday, but they'll start to be missing you by now. Know though, that you are still welcome whenever you need."

"Thank you," Hermione said.

Leaving back the way she came, Hermione navigated the halls on autopilot. When she arrived at the floo, she was still trying to figure out how to work up the courage to ask Professor Snape for lessons, when the green flames engulfed her.

————————————

** February 2, 1995 **

A harsh knock at his office door interrupted Severus Snape in his attempts to grade fifth year essays. Laying his quill down on the table, he pushed the stack away from him before calling out for his guest.

"Enter."

The heavy wooden door was pulled open by Minerva McGonagall, though she didn't enter right away. She held the door open and looked sternly down at a student that was taking their time entering the room. Severus sighed heavily and wondered what one of his snakes had done now. However, he was shocking to see Hermione emerge from behind the wall and enter the office with the Head of Gryffindor House on her heels.

"Good evening Severus," Minerva said, taking a seat on one of the chairs before his desk, gesturing for Hermione to do the same.

"Good evening Minerva. Miss Granger. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Severus drawled, watching the young witch fidget in her seat.

"Miss Granger has brought it to my attention that her councilor at St. Mungo's suggested instruction in more advanced defensive and offensive spells, along with more physical fighting styles," Minerva explained.

“And you are here because?” Severus sneered.

“Becuase I would like you to instruct her,” Minerva said.

"And what of Professor Moody?" Snape asked, adding sarcastically, "After all, he is the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor."

"Don't be foolish, Severus. We both know Alastor wasn't much for muggle fighting before he lost his leg," Minerva joked. "Besides, Miss Granger asked about you personally."

In the uncomfortable seat beside the older witch, Hermione Granger fidgeted and cringed at her Professor's last statement. Snape smirked and suppressed the chuckle that would have normally escaped in present company.

"And why Miss Granger, did you request me?"

She looked up at him then, and he had to watch his features, as he wasn't expecting her too be so bold. For a brief second, he had seen his wife staring back at him, not the student.

"For starters, Professor Moody makes me uncomfortable. Additionally, when my councilor suggested it, you were the first person that came to mind," Hermione explained.

"And why did you think of me first?" Snape questioned, genuinely curious.

"Because the first thing I thought of was you soundly beating, Lockhart, in my second year," she told him, with a broad grin.

Beside her, Minerva laughed heartily. Severus grinned, but resisted laughing at the reminder of that day.

"To be fair, he wasn't much of a challenge," Severus shrugged. "Though, if you are insistent that I tutor you, I can speak with Professor ..."

Minerva edged in and interrupted him quickly, "We both know you only need her Head of House's approval before agreeing to extra lessons and since I'm here, I give it."

"Well then, we will meet Tuesday and Thursday nights after dinner, and if anyone asks, you are taking Advanced Potions classes," Severus instructed her.

"Thank you very much, Professor Snape," Hermione voiced her appreciation.

Quickly, she stood, waiting momentarily for him to dismiss her with a wave of his hand before darting out into the hall. Minerva was just about to get out of her seat and depart when he waved his hand again and the door slammed shut.

"Just what are you playing at, you meddling old tabby?" Severus hissed.

"I am trying to make sure my daughter is taken care of and taught properly. You weren't the only one shaken up and murderous after her attack," McGonagall asserted firmly. "We both know that Remus is the only qualified Defense instructor we've had for years. Quirrell and Lockhart were jokes and Alastor is too far around the bend."

"While I appreciate your vote of confidence, you could have at least let me pretend to think about it! By Merlin, classes full of other students are hard enough. How am I supposed to manage one on one with her?" Snape moaned, moments from beating his head against the desk.

"I'm sure you'll manage. And you never know, maybe spending time with you will dislodge those memories early," Minerva responded.

"Ah ha! I knew you were meddling!" Severus declared triumphantly.

"Meddling or not, at least you'll have a sparring partner again for a time. Filius has managed to beat you in the teacher dueling tournament the last few years. I've had to stop betting on you for fear of losing all of my savings," she chuckled.

"Bah, we both know you always used to bet on your girl anyway," Severus sneered.

"Yes, but you were always an easy second place bet," she teased.

Snape just sighed, dropping his head to the palms of his hands as the memories surfaced. Minerva stood from her seat and walked around his desk, patting him gently on his back.

"Just hang in there, my boy. We'll get her back," Minerva assured him.

She gripped his shoulder gently before taking her leave, shutting the door behind her. He knew that she kept reassuring him for both of their sake.

——————————

Minerva returned to her rooms, settling down into the tartan chair by the fireplace. The flames roared in the heart, heating up her aching old joints. The old witch sighed, feeling as if she'd aged a decade for every year since Hermione had been de-aged.

Even when Hermione and Severus had joined the Order right out of Hogwarts she hadn't stressed this much. The two years between Severus taking the Dark Mark and the disappearance of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had been almost this bad, though thankfully short.

The sulky Slytherin had been a part of her family for almost as long as Hermione. It hadn't taken their marriage for her to consider him a son. However, she still fondly remembered finding out that he would be officially joining the family.

———————————

** January 1978 **

"Mum," Hermione shrieked as she burst through the door to her chambers.

"Hermione, dear, we've talk about you bursting in here while students are in the castle," Minerva scolded her gently. "Now, what's got you all excited this time?"

"He finally proposed," the younger witch exclaimed, coming around her mother's chair and plopping down by her feet, in front of the fire.

Took him long enough, Minerva thought wryly as she remembered the scrawny young man approaching her over three months before, asking for her permission to marry Hermione. Not that he needed her permission, Merlin knew that girl was going to do what she wanted, but it was the kind of gesture that both Hermione, and herself would appreciate.

"Well, let's see the ring dear," Minerva mentioned. "It's not about the size of the gems, but about the thought put into it."

Hermione offered her left hand for her mother to observe the small ring and two rectangular gems. Nodding in approval, she grasped her daughter's hand in her own.

"Your young man has good tastes, for a Slytherin," Minerva declared, chuckling as Hermione nudged her gently. "But, then again, there was never any doubt about that at least, as he chose you."

Hemione blushed before getting up and making her way to the small kitchen attached to her mother's chambers to make tea. When she returned, she settled down on the couch besides her mother's chair, the tea tray between them, as she prepared tea for the two. Once each had a steaming cup in their hands, they sat pensively for a few moments.

"Now, how did he propose?" Minerva asked.

Hermione blushed again, knowing that her bookish nature was well known and sometimes a bit much. Minerva however, had misunderstood the red hue on her daughter's cheeks.

"No, never mind," she stated before Hermione could get started. "There are some details a mother does not need from her daughter."

"Oh, it wasn't like that, mum. Geesh," Hermione admonished her before laughing softly. "He proposed in the library at our table. He asked me with an arithmancy equation."

"Ah, that's what took the boy more than three months!" Minerva exclaimed.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"He came to see me over three months ago to ask for my permission to propose to you," Minerva explained, with an amused smile.

"Wow, he really does love me," Hermione mused to herself, staring at the flames.

"I'll say, the boy spent three months learning to speak your language!"

Hermione chuckled.

"Now, I hope you two are planning to wait until you've finished school for the wedding," Minerva asked, grinning teasingly as she not so subtly glancing down at the young witch's stomach.

"Sweet Merlin, I can't believe you just asked that! We took then hint well enough when you presented us with the books," Hermione assured her and rolling her eyes at her mother.

Holding up her hands in surrender, Minerva grinned at her.

"But yes, we are planning on waiting until the summer, but not long after. We know how dangerous things are getting and want to make the most of things while we can," Hermione responded sadly.

"And I cannot talk you two out of joining the Order?" Minerva inquired sadly.

"Mum, we've had this discussion. We agreed to wait until we were done with school, even though we are of age."

"I know, I know. Just checking."

"Speaking of dark times ahead. Why have you never accepted Elphinstone's proposal?" Hermione inquired gently.

"I can't marry one man, when my heart belongs to another. No matter how dire the situation," Minerva answered.

"Oh, I didn't mean that," Hermione assured her.

"I know, my dear," Minerva said, gripping her daughter's hand lightly.

"Why do you never speak of him?"

"He is a muggle and I had to make the choice between this world and his. I knew that I would never be able to give up the magical world like my mother had. Last I heard, he married a muggle woman and they have two children," the older witch explained.

"Oh mum. I'm so sorry," Hermione exclaimed softly, gripping her hand tighter.

"It is in the past, my dear. Life isn't always fair, as you well know," Minerva explained. "I'm sorry we won't have your birth parents at the wedding, but I am very honored that you consider me your mother."

Hermione smiled sadly. "I'm honored that you took me in and consider me your daughter."

The pair fell silent, sipping their tea companionably and watching the fire crackle in the hearth. With dark storms on the horizon, the simply enjoyed the time with each other.


	13. Danger Lurks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the next one. Things aren’t getting any better yet, so still expect it to be rough. Please keep commenting and letting me know what yall think! :)

** March 7, 1995 **

It had been a little over a month since Hermione had started private lessons with Professor Snape and she was already starting to feel more confident in her abilities. So far, they had mostly worked on various defensive and offensive spells. The major change was that her Professor had insisted she learn nonverbal spells, which she took to easily. Now that she was fairly confident in her nonverbals, Snape insisted that all of her spell work be nonverbal during their lessons.

As Hermione walked down to the dungeons, she wondered if they would continue with their nonverbal dueling, or if they would be working on something new. She barely noticed that she had arrived at the door to the classroom until she had almost walked into it. Startling out of her thoughts, she knocked lightly on the hard wood.

"Enter," Severus Snape called out to her.

Upon seeing the young witch enter the room, he put his quill down, stoppered the jar of ink, and straightened the stack of essays he had been working on.

"Ah, Miss Granger. Let's get started then," Severus told her, standing and walking to the door at the back of the classroom.

Hermione followed him quietly, as he led her on their usual path through first his office, then his private sitting room, and finally through a long hallway that ended at the schools dueling hall. She had asked about the hallway connecting his sitting room and the dueling hall during their first lesson. He had simply told her that he would frequently duel with his late wife and the castle had eventually provided them with more direct access. Sensing that discussing his late wife was painful, she had dropped it.

On this night, as they entered the dueling hall, Hermione had barely pulled her wand from her the back pocket of her jeans before Severus Snape had disarmed her with a silent spell. The force of the spell stung her hand as the length of vinewood was ripped from it. Scowl firmly in place, she turned to the snarly Professor, prepare to challenge his methods.

"You would do better to be aware at all times. However, for tonight's lesson, you will not need your wand," Snape announced as he slipped her slender wand in one of his coat pockets. "Since you are confident and competent in nonverbal spells, we will start to work on ways for you to combat a larger opponent."

"Now, the best way to do this and what would have helped you on that night would be a nonverbal and wandless shield charm," he explained.

"But isn't wandless magic difficult to direct," she asked.

"Yes, but there are a few exceptions, and shield charms are one of them. In this case, you aren't meant to direct the magic. It tends to be a wild force that wraps around you, blocking spells, but also repelling any physical shape within the radius," Severus explained gently.

"So, you're saying that if I had been able to do this on that night ..." Hermione asked, trailing off instead of going into detail.

"Yes. It's a way to protect yourself from those that have the upper hand when it comes to physical strength," Severus answered the unfinished question. "Now, much like nonverbal spells, you are going to need to envision yourself casting the spell, using the incantation silently. However, the difference is that you won't channel the magic through your wand. Instead, you need to envision the magic coming from you core, spreading outward around you in a protective bubble."

Snape waited a moment for her to take in the information and see if she had any questions. Instead she simple nodded to him in understanding.

"Good, go ahead and give it a try. If you are successful, I'll be able to see your magic surrounding you," he explained, stepping back a few places to give her room.

Standing in the middle of the dueling hall, she tried to concentrate. Within her mind she focused in the core of her magic, then envisioned the protection of the spell surrounding her. When she felt she had a good visual, she shouted the spell in her mind - Protego.

Severus watched the young witch, giving her time to give it a solid try. He watched her inner magic very briefly spark from her core, but it fizzled out instead of becoming a proper spell. When Hermione opened her eyes, she looked at him, silently asking where she had gone wrong.

"Try it again," he insisted. "It is difficult magic and hard for your core to understand at first. As with anything, the more you try, the better you will get."

Hermione nodded with determination and tried again. And again. And again. She tried for close to any hour with no results. Severus had taken to wandering around her in a wide circle, trying to figure out what the problem was. At the half hour mark, he had come up with an idea, but he didn't like it, stalling in the hopes that he could think of something else. However, he only had one idea.

The witch had her eyes closes, working on visualizing the spell, when he came up behind her suddenly. Severus threw his strong arms around her, pulling her back, tight against him. She struggled and opened her mouth to scream, but he wrapped one large hand over her mouth, reducing the sound the muffled desperation.

He held her close to him, easily evading and countering her each attempt to escape him. Tears streamed down her face as she struggled against him, her mind no longer in the dueling room, but back by the lake, with Victor's large form on top of her, holding her tight. Suddenly the potion master's voice snapped her back to the present.

"Focus," he snarled in her ear.

She still continued to fight against him, but in her mind, she visualized her magic surrounding her in protection, she saw her attacker's hold being broken and the person being thrown backwards by the force of her shield. Mentally, while the image was strong, she shouted the spell again.

This time, her magic surged outward, away from her, creating the bubble of protection that was the protego shield charm. Snape was thrown free of her, landing five feet away from the witch. Wincing, he sat himself up with a grin, pleased that she had successfully produced a wandless, nonverbal shield charm.

Seeing her crumpled on the floor sobbing set him into motion. Jumping to his feet, he crossed the room to her and sunk back to the floor beside her. Severus wrapped his arms around her, pulling Hermione into his embrace. She fought against him physically, but he simple held on as gently as he could with her struggling, whispering into her hair.

"You're safe, Miss Granger. Everything is alright. You are safe," he told her, trying to bring her out of the memories he knew were playing through her mind.

Still, she struggled against him, sobbing uncontrollably. Her attempts getting weaker as she tired. Suddenly, he could feel her magic building around her again.

"Hermione," Severus pleaded. "You are safe. I promise. I've got you."

He kissed and stroked her hair with his face, continuing to try and consul her. The memories of Victor and that cold December night faded from her mind. They were replaced by an all-encompassing warmth and soothing presence that she recognized as her professor's magic and words washing over her. The magic faded away and she collapsed into his embrace, the sobs trailing off into hiccup like gasps for breath, tears still streaming down her face.

Once she stopped fighting him, he loosened his hold. She protested slightly, but settled again as he started stroking her hair, his hand trailing through her silky curls. His free hand drifted down to her face, long fingers gently wiping away the tears. Her breathing started to come easier and the tears slowed. Noticing this, he used one hand and gently lifted her head up so that he could look into her eyes.

"I'm sorry to have put you through that. Are you alright?" Severus asked, still holding her to him.

"I think so," Hermione responded. "I feel drained and pretty shaken up though."

"That is to be expected when reliving a trauma like that, Miss Granger," he responded.

"You called me Hermione," she stated, looking up at him, a slight question in her tone.

Reluctantly, Severus untangled himself from the witch in his arms, suppressing a pained protest. Hermione groaned, disappointed at the loss of his arms around her and the comfortable safe feeling.

"My apologies, Miss Granger. That was very unprofessional of me. I simply was concerned for your welfare," he explained, putting the mask of professor back into place.

She's not yours yet, Severus. Remember that , his mind scolded him.

Hermione couldn't hide her disappointment as he apologized for things she didn't regret. Something about the dark, snarky wizard drew her to him and she couldn't explain it. It was just one more of those gut feelings, the thoughts that led to a blank wall in her mind.

"I believe that concludes our lesson today. Your magic will be somewhat drained after producing that shield. You will feel weak and a little displaced, but that should fade and you magic recovered by the morning," Severus explained.

She nodded, annoyed by his detached tone and posture. She had liked to think they had become something of friends in the weeks he had been training her. He had been less formal and stiff, but now he had reverted to his classroom self.

"If you wish to practice your shield, there are many empty classrooms with desks you can throw around," he admitted wryly. "Just be aware of you magic and don't push yourself too hard too fast. The more you work on the wandless, wordless shield, the easier it will become and will eventually take very little magic to produce. It is useful for dislodging physical attackers as you've just witnessed, but can also be helpful of you've been disarmed and need to flee."

Pausing briefly to observe his student, he waited to see if she had any questions. When she just nodded in response, he continued.

"Well, I think that is all for this evening. Be sure to find some time to practice. I believe you'll find that you should be able to summon the motivation to accomplish the spell without ... uhm ... someone attacking you now. Your magic will recognize the familiar pathway and respond quicker.”

He led the way back through his private chambers and back to the classroom, for her to depart, the silence between them felt thick and heavy. She had arrived at the classroom door and was about to open it when he broke the silence.

"You did very well tonight, Miss Granger," Severus admitted, seated at his desk, with his focus on a pile of essays.

Hermione smiled to herself and left him to his grading, making her way back to Gryffindor Tower. While she expected they had taken a step backwards, his final statement showed her that it wasn't quite a hopeless as it had felt.

——————————

He was running faster than he ever had in his life, legs covering the distance between the headmaster's office and the entry hall in less than half the normal time. However, it had felt like it had taken him hours to cover that distance. Bursting through the front doors, he surveyed the lawn of Hogwarts spread out in front of him.

Even in the light of the full moon and the resulting silvery sheen on the grass, he didn't spot the distinct figure he was looking for. Taking off again, he stumbled down the stairs and across the lawn.

"Hermione," he screamed, fear heavy in his voice.

Breaths were ragged and gasping, and the effort it had taken him to scream out her name had his steps faltering and black dots appearing before his eyes.

A feminine scream echoed across the grounds, originating from within the Forbidden Forest. The terror drove Severus onward, angling towards the clearest path into the forest. He was just passing Hagrid's Hut and entering the trees when a second scream pierced the night. This scream however was one of agony and severe pain.

Even though he felt like he didn't have anything left in him, he plowed forward, his heavy dragonhide boots trampling the foliage as he followed the sound off the main path. His foot caught in a lifted root concealed by leaves, sending the panicked potion master tumbling to the ground. He wasn't able to get his hands under him fast enough, slamming his head into the ground hard.

Ignoring the throbbing, disorientated feeling, he scrambled forward, crawling on hands and knees until he could get his feet under him. Moments later, he burst into a clearing. In the center of the clearing, the witch he sought lay, dirty and bloodied. Stumbling over to her, he knelt down next to her, studying her prone form. Her chest still rose and fell with her breaths; however, they were shallow and ragged. Jagged slashes all over, ripped apart her body and blood continued to ooze from her incredibly pale form. Her wand lay in her open hand, that plus her continued breathing proved she had been able to fight off her attacker. Grabbing her off hand in between his two larger hands, he clung to her.

"Hermione," he choked out, tears tracking down his face as he watched her face, hoping her eyes would open for him.

Severus had been working on an experimental variant of the pepper-up potion all evening. He had lost himself in his brewing and it was well into the night when he had noticed her absence. Concerned, Severus had gone to see the headmaster. The old man had taken his time telling him that Hermione had taken off into the Forbidden Forest to gather some potion ingredients during the full moon and Albus had taken it upon himself to send Remus after her to insure her safety.

It was at that moment he had leapt into action, throwing himself down the moving staircase without even bidding Dumbledore farewell. During his brewing, it had also escaped his notice that Remus, who had been staying at Hogwarts for a time, hadn't stopped in to collect his wolfsbane, per the letter Severus had sent him earlier in the day. That was how he had ended up, bloodied and breathless in the dirt clutching his witch's hand.

Slowly, her eyelids fluttered, revealing pained honey brown eyes. The howl of a wolf in the distance jolted him out of his daze and he jumped into action. With a flick of his wrist, his wand dropped from its holster and into his hand. Black eyes scanned the trees for danger before he turned to Hermione.

Muttering incantations under his breath and waving his wand over his body, he started to heal the largest of the jagged wounds. Severus was watching the tear slow start stitching itself back together with such single-minded devotion, that he was shocked when Hermione's arms surged up, pushing him away.

"No," she moaned, blood bubbling up at the corner of her mouth.

"I can fix this," Severus insisted. "I can save you."

"No."

"Please don't leave me," he pleaded.

Hermione's eyes met his dark black orbs, pain and helplessness evident. He understood. Severus knew that even if he could save her, the wounds had been inflicted by a werewolf and she didn't want to live like that. Clutching her hand again in his, he pulled it into his chest.

"Please don't leave me," he repeated. We will figure something out. Don't go. I need you."

Hermione weakly squeezed his hand for a moment before her eyes fluttered closed and her arm went limp. Her chest no longer rose with breath. Severus growled and roared in agony, wrapping his arms around the witch's body and pulling her into him.

"No. I love you. I need you. I can't do this without you," he pleaded, to the lifeless body in his arms, tears dripping into her hair.

The sun was staring to break though the canopy of the forest by the time his tears had dried up. Exhausted and aching all over, he lifted himself off the forest floor, Hermione's body in his arms. Trudging through the brush, his boots weighing him down and catching on every branch, he moved toward the castle.

Miraculously, he had made it without stumbling or dropping the witch in his arms. Upon arriving in the dungeons, he entered his chambers and settled her on his bed. Severus stood beside the bed, gazing upon her for just a little longer. Eventually, with energy fueled by his rage, he turned on his heel and stalked toward the fireplace, tossing in the floo powder and emerging in the headmaster's office.

"Where is he?" Severus demanded.

"Now, calm down Severus," Albus insisted, standing from his chair. "Remus is resting. He's had a rough night."

"He's had a rough night!" Severus roared. "She is dead, Albus. Dead because that stupid wolf couldn't do one simple thing! Dead because he didn't take his stupid fucking potion. I want his fucking pelt!"

"Stop now, Severus," Dumbledore insisted, his voice raising. "I am sorry for your loss, but Remus is needed! He's the only hope we have of controlling the werewolves and getting more to take the wolfsbane potion. We cannot spare him. No one can know he was responsible."

"What?" Severus snarled. "You're just going to let him get away with it? Did you not here me, Albus? He killed her. Ripped her to shreds and the only reason he didn't tear out and eat her still beating heart was that she got a spell off at him."

"And it is a tragic loss," Albus said.

"However, for the greater good, we must say nothing. We must protect Remus and find another way to explain her death."

"This is unacceptable ..." Severus started to yell, but the headmaster cut him off.

"Do not forget who you work for," Dumbledore roared. "You came to me, begging for another chance, requesting that I save you from him and the Ministry and I did. You will obey me."

Severus glared at the old man, silent and stewing in his rage, but smart enough to know when to shut up.

“Good," Albus said, returning to his gentler demeanor. "Now, Hermione's death is tragic, but we must cover it up. Get rid of the body and I will figure something out in the meantime. You will not speak of this."

Severus simply nodded, gritting his teeth to keep him tongue in check, knowing he had to continue to ‘obey’ his master, no matter how distasteful he found it, before flooing back to his chambers.


	14. Making a Death Eater

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I won’t let yall suffer that long. My husband said it was very Slytherin of me to leave that hanging and I can’t say he’s wrong.
> 
> Thanks for all the feedback!

** May 24, 1995 **

Severus lay crumpled in a heap, sobbing uncontrollably when Minerva arrived through the floo. Greatly concerned, she instantly settled herself on the floor next to him, pulling the distraught wizard into her embrace. Slowly, she rocked him back and forth, whispering words of comfort to him.

"It's alright lad. Whatever it is, it will be alright," she told him.

Slowly, Severus came back to himself, still clearly upset, but more coherent.

"Now, what is this all about?" the older witch asked him.

Rolling up his sleeve, he displayed the prominent and obviously irritated dark mark on his left forearm. Minerva gasped in shock.

"He's so close to coming back and Albus doesn't think that there will be any way to stop him this time. Now, it's just a waiting game and by the fact that the mark is irritated and painful without prompting, for the first time since it was applied, we won't be waiting long," Severus explained.

He paused, ducking his head behind is long black hair to avoid her gaze before admitting.

"Albus suggested I prepared and create a memory of my Hermione's death to show the Dark Lord because he knows that the question will come up. The hope is that it will cement my loyalty to the cause after so many years. He, uh, suggested I make Remus her killer."

"Oh my,” Minerva uttered in shock.

It had been hard enough on both of them to pretend that their Hermione had died, more so on Severus, as her husband, since it was lesser known that she had raised the witch. However, the thought of fabricating the image of her death, not only by the hands off one of their closest friends, but at the mercy of a werewolf, was devastating.

"Let me see," McGonagall insisted.

Severus stiffened in her grasp.

"You don't want to see her like that. Fake or not, it is still a memory I created. My ability with the mind magics and ability to create realistic enough memories to fool the greatest Legilimens was part of the reason I was selected to spy among the death eaters. It will feel entirely too real," he explained.

"I want to see. I want to help and support and I cannot without having all the information," she said, before adding to lighten the mood. "Besides, I cannot imagine a suitable punishment for our esteemed headmaster if I do not witness all the crimes he has committed."

Severus slumped again, clearly giving in to the older witch. Producing a vial from his robes, he pressed his wand tip to his skull and withdrew the shiny strand of memory, depositing it into the vial. He passed it to his mother-in-law, tears reappearing, not wanting her to see the horrible death he had needed to produce for her daughter.

Gently, she took the vial, setting it on the closest surface, and then encouraged the younger man off the stone floor. Once she had deposited him in his chair, she took the memory and followed it into his pensive.

What had felt like hours later to Severus, but in reality, had only been moments, Minerva emerged, stumbling backwards into the couch. Seated haphazardly on the couch, she was clutching her chest and had tears streaking down her face.

After quite a long time of silence, she asked, “The fight with Albus?"

"Real words between us. Crafted for the purpose of making me despise the light even more, after he had insisted on the circumstances of her fabricated death. The key to making memories is to use as much real memories and adjusting them to fit," Severus explained, slipping into his lecturing tone.

"That man has a pile of sins several mountains high to atone for when all is said and done," Minerva muttered, still clearly shaken from seeing her daughter mauled.

"Indeed, he does," Severus insisted. "But in my role as spy for the Death Eaters, I must be above reproach and have an answer for everything."

—————————————

** July 1978 **

"Damn it all, we've lost too many of our own recently and only managed to capture a single death eater," James Potter declared with anger. "We need some kind of advantage over them! Benjy, Dorcas, and the Prewett brother will have died in vain if we don't find a way in!"

The Order of the Phoenix sat in the main room of the Hogshead, silent and contemplative after James' passionate declaration. Aberforth stood behind the bar, wiping it down with a questionable rag, pointedly staring at his brother. Alastor Moody sat in a chair by the door, ever vigilant even though the entrance was warded and locked up tight. He rubbed his aching leg, the fairly new wooden attachment, courtesy of Voldemort, hurt like hell. The rest of the room was filled with various members, settled into little groups.

After a time, all eyes turned to their leader. Dumbledore sat near the fireplace, fiddling with a small tin of lemon drops. Ignoring the stares, he popped one in his mouth, thoughtfully sucking on the sour treat.

"We need a spy and there's only one Slytherin in this room, so the choice is obvious," stated a rather subdued Sirius Black.

The normally arrogant and loud Gryffindor slouched in his chair, his messy black hair partially covering his scowling face. An immediate uproar followed his words. Hermione and Minerva were the first to their feet, shouting down the marauder. The Longbottoms, some of the older members, Alastor, Lily, Remus, and even James himself objected to the idea. Chaos had broken out all over the room, though, no one had noticed that Severus Snape had nothing to say in his own defense.

"You can't send him into that viper's nest."

"He might be a snake, but he is one of us."

"We don't sacrifice our own."

"Silence," Dumbledore demanded.

Heads turned his way before one by one they returned to their seats, Hermione being the only one still standing.

"We're losing people constantly and you want to just throw one of our own to the death eaters!" She shouted at Sirius. "He may be a Slytherin and you may not like it, but he is my husband and I'm not about to let him walk willingly to his death."

With his wife on the verge of hexing one of her friends, Severus gently grabbed he wrist and pulled her down into the chair beside him, wrapping his arms around her.

"Do anyone have a better idea? Snape may not be my favorite person, but we've put most of the childish school pranks behind us. I don't want to see him die any more than I want to lose anyone in this room, but we are floundering and blind," Black insisted.

"I think that is enough for today. The idea has been thrown out there, but nothing will happen unless Severus agrees. Let him think about it and we will bring it back up at next week's meeting," Dumbledore determined. "Now, before we depart, a wand oath from each of you that the details of this meeting will only be discussed with members of the order and in secure locations."

The gathered members agreed, swearing on their magic before everyone stood up and prepared to depart. Some of the members immediately moved to the fireplace, flooing away. Others gathered in groups to chat. The Longbottom's approached Severus, Hermione and Minerva.

"Don't pay Sirius any mind, mate," Frank Longbottom said, patting Severus on the shoulder. "We'll figure something else out."

Severus just nodded, taking Hermione's hand and leading her towards the fire. Tossing the floo powder in, they disappeared to McGonagall Manor, in the most north west corner of Scotland. Minerva walked out of the flames shortly after the newlywed couple.

"Mr. Black was completely out of his mind," Minerva insisted.

"Let's leave it for now," Severus ordered softly. "We all need some sleep."

Later that night, Severus entered the room he shared with his wife from the bathroom, wearing only black lounge pants hung low on his slender hips, his long hair still slightly damp from his shower. Hermione sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard, with a book in her hands.

Severus crawled up from the foot of the bed, laying so that his head was laying in her lap, his arms wrapped around her. Marking her page, Hermione closed the book and set it on the nightstand. Gently, she ran her fingers through his hair, smiling as he hummed in appreciation and closed his eyes.

"What are you thinking about?" She inquired softly.

"That we don't have any other options," Severus admitted, sighing heavily.

"We have other options, Severus," Hermione insisted, tears starting to gather in her eyes.

"Fine," he conceded. "We don't have any other good options."

His wife stayed silent, her hands stilling in his hair. Slowly he sat up, sitting cross legged on their bed.

"I'm still friends with Lucius, Evan, Corban, Rabastan, and Regulas. Fredrick Avery and Grayson Mulciber are dogs, but consider me a friend. No one outside of the Order knows of my involvement since my job is to make potions. They remember the bullying I received from the Marauders during school. Aside from my marriage to you, I have no suspected involvement with the light. Since Minerva is a half blood and no one know that you're adopted, it is considered acceptable," Severus explained, looking into her eyes.

Tears started to fall as she listened to him. She knew that he had made up his mind and that she wouldn't be able to sway him.

"I want to help make our world safe," he told her, pulling her into his arms. "It will never be as long as Voldemort and the Death Eaters are ravaging it. I want a home of our own, I want to watch your stomach grow big and beautiful with our child, watch our children grow up, and I want to grow old with you."

"And you think that the way to accomplish that is to join his ranks?" Hermione spat, angered by him using the life they had envisioned together as an excuse. "If he even suspects that you are a spy, he will kill you, painfully. Aside from that, his people torture, rape, and murder people."

"It is mostly dogs like Avery, Mulciber, and Dolohov that do that. I have talents that he needs, much like my position here in the Order. And he won't suspect me," Severus responded.

"It's rumored that he is the greatest Legilimens ever. I know you are a talented Occulmens, but do you truly believe you can match him?"

"Yes, I can match him and more. I can do this, love," Snape insisted.

"I don't want you to do this," Hermione admitted, nuzzling into his neck. "I can't lose you."

Severus sighed deeply, holding onto his witch. He knew that he was the only one that could infiltrate Voldemort's ranks. He knew that they needed a way to counter him. He had lost many friends in the last few months and wanted to avenge them. However, he also knew he couldn't say no to his witch.

"Alright, my love. We will just have to find another way," Severus answered.

Hermione relaxed in his arms, her lips grazing his neck briefly before she started kissing her way down his chest. Severus responded eagerly, laying her down on the bed, lips clashing down upon hers in a desperate struggle to forget.

After their lovemaking, he laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling, with his witch wrapped up in his arms. He would have to talk to Dumbledore soon, let him know his answer, so that they could consider other options.

Sleep evaded Severus that night, so he simply held Hermione, running his hands slowly up and down her bare back, nuzzling and kissing her hair, while wishing the war would end soon, so they could really start their life together.

————————————

"Have a seat, my boy. Would you care for a lemon drop," Dumbledore offered, gesturing to the bowl of round, yellow sweets on his desk.

"Thank you, but no, sir," Severus responded, sneering at the offering.

"Then, what is it that you wanted to discuss?" Albus inquired.

Severus fidgeted in the luxurious wing backed chair before the Headmaster's desk. After his talk with Hermione the night before, he had figured that he had better speak with Dumbledore right away.

"I wanted to let you know, that I thought long and had about the yesterday's suggested. Hermione and I discussed it and I cannot be the spy," Severus admitted.

"I'm disappointed to hear that, my boy," Albus told him, using the tone he would when disciplining students. "The number of Order deaths had been increasing rapidly, but has made little progress in rounding up and stopping the Death Eaters. Our only hope is to have someone on the inside to feed us information."

Snape slouched in the chair and bowed his head, feeling much like he had every time he and the marauders had been presented to the Headmaster after getting into a fight or trouble. He could feel the disappointment rolling off the powerful wizard that he respected greatly.

Dumbledore could see the young man before him struggling with the decision. He didn't dare attempt to slip into his mind, knowing that Snape's defenses were phenomenal and any attempt would be immediately detected. Albus needed to keep Severus pliable and willing to do whatever it took to gain approval, not on the defensive. The Headmaster's twinkling blue eyes bore into the top of his head.

"It is quite a shame. You have all of the right connections and talents to be a great asset to Voldemort. He wouldn't even think twice about your involvement, simply welcoming you into his ranks," Albus said. "I had thought that you were strong enough to do what needed to be done. For the greater good."

"I am strong enough," Severus insisted, his features hardening in a look of pure determinations.

"Then maybe you would be willing to reconsider? The Order needs you," Dumbledore insisted, playing on the need to fit in and be valued he knew the young man struggled with.

"Yes sir, I will do this," Severus insisted, all thought of Hermione's pleading for his to decline ignored.

"Good!" Albus praised him. "I think you should go see your Slytherin friends this evening. The sooner you can invade his ranks, the better. Your contribution will be crucial to victory for the side of light."

Severus nodded, departing the Headmaster's office with a feeling of purpose and acceptance. He would seek out Lucius. The Malfoy heir had been trying to sway him for years now. A few drinks together and this time, Severus would agree with his not so subtle hints and accept his offer.

—————————-

The interior of the tavern in Knockturn Alley where Lucius had suggested they meet was as dark and dingy as the alley itself. Severus was surprised that the young Malfoy would even step foot into a place like this, but he immediate saw the man's platinum blond hair in the back, corner table, even before being beckoned toward him.

Seating himself at the dark, corner table, Severus was surprised by the shot of fire whisky that had been slid towards him by the primped and polished wizard beside him. Throwing back the shot, he set the glass back on the table and grinned.

"Good to see you, Lucius. Though, I'm surprised by the location. It seems beneath you," Snape sneered.

"Well, the upside to questionable establishments such as this one is the privacy," Lucius explained, with a quirk of his lips. He tossed back his own shot of whiskey and waved at the bartender for another round. "Drinks are on me tonight, my friend. It's been too long since we've seen each other."

That it has. How is Narcissa doing?" Severus asked politely, tossing back the next shoot immediately as it was poured.

He would never let it show, but he was incredibly nervous and hoped the drinks would help settle him. Severus needed Lucius to court him tonight. If Severus seemed too eager, he'd give away the game.

Lucius waved for the waitress to just leave the bottle, pouring another shot for the young wizard himself. Tonight, he had a task to accomplish and failure was not an option. The Dark Lord had been admiring Snape from afar for a while. Tales of his talents and skills had reached Voldemort's ears for many years while Snape had been in school. The knowledge that the poor young man had been offered an apprenticeship for free immediately after his graduation had made him impatient for the Slytherin to join his ranks. Lucius needed to convince him tonight.

"She is doing well considering. We just had another miscarriage last month, but she is managing," Lucius admitted, hoping being vulnerable would help his cause. "Father is very sick and the Healer's don't believe he will recover. The pressure to produce an heir is even greater now."

"I'm sorry to hear that, my friend," Severus said, trying to console him, while taking another shot.

He was on his fifth shot now in such a short time, his head was starting to feel quite heavy, but his purpose was still in the front of his mind.

"I hear congratulations are in order however. Married and accepted as an apprentice in potions all in such a short time. I'm sure you're still reeling and reveling in it all," Malfoy said with a scandalous smirk.

"Yes, it's been a lot, but also everything I've wanted," Snape admitted.

His mind briefly turned to Hermione and her begging him not to do it. Severus hadn't had the time or the courage to tell her that the plan had changed. Things would be put in motion before they had a chance to discuss it, but it was all for the greater good, so he pushed his feeling of betraying her to the side. He was doing this to protect her and the life they dreamed of.

"Between you and me," Snape said, leaning in conspiringly. "Slughorn is accelerating my apprenticeship. He wishes to retire as soon as possible. So, a job at Hogwarts is already in my lap."

"Teaching, really?" Lucius asked. "You could be leading the field of potions in no time with your talent. Research and patenting new and improved potions is the way to go. You could make some very powerful friends with your skills."

Knowing the Lucius was dropping the bait, Severus took it.

"Oh, I wasn't aware that he had noticed me," Severus responded.

"Not noticed you? Between the potions and spells you've created, you're a popular topic. He could provide you with the opportunities for true greatness. It doesn't matter that you're a half-blood, your skills are widely known throughout Slytherin house. He could use someone like you," Lucius told him, heaping on the praise without over doing it. "Let me take you to meet him. Let him tell you about the new world he envisions, the power he will bring to wizarding kinds."

Severus stayed silent for a moment, staring deep into the nearly empty bottle of fire whiskey on the table, as if contemplating it. Reaching out, he poured the rest of the bottle into his glass, then tossed it back quickly. Turning back to Lucius, he sealed his fate with three words.

"Sure. Arrange it."


	15. Branded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, things are rough and I try to write a chapter for each I post to stay ahead, but falling behind. Still have a five chapter buffer, but we’ll see how it goes.
> 
> And yes, Hermione can have some colorful language when provoked. She never really felt like she fell into the mild mannered, prim and proper category. Hope none are too adverse.
> 
> Please comment and let me know what you think!

** July 1978 **

"Tell me you didn't?"

Severus stopped in his tracks, standing in the dark doorway. With the late hour and the darkness of their chambers, he had assumed that she was already sleep. A flick of her wand and the lights in the room flickered to life. Hermione sat on their bed, he legs cross in front of her, while she fiddled with the fabric of her pajama pants, with her head bowed and her hair concealing her face.

"Didn't what?" He asked, but the burning in his arm made him feel guilty for playing dumb when she clearly already knew somehow.

"Severus fucking Snape. Don't. Dumbledore stopped by earlier to thank me for your contribution to the goddamn cause," Hermione explained, lifting her head to reveal red, puffy eyes, and glistening tear tracks down her face. "And here, I was under the impression that we had agreed that you wouldn't be stupid enough to risk you damn neck on this foolish fucking plan."

She received her answer, when he clutched at his burning left forearm. He looked guilty as the wheels turned in his head, trying to figure out what to say.

————————

When he had met up with Lucius earlier in the night, he hadn't expected his request for a meeting to be granted immediately. They had left immediately from the bar and apparated to the Avery Manor, where the Dark Lord had been holding court.

Stepping into the dimly lit ballroom, he had instantly known that there would be no turning back. Lucius had led him to the small dining table at the far end of the hall where a small group dined.

"Ah, Lucius, so good to see you! I wasn't aware we were expecting you tonight," a handsome young man greeted him. "Who have you brought with you?"

Severus had stood slightly behind Lucius, but tall and proud as he observed the exchange. He recognized several of the members around the table. The younger Avery, who he had been in his same year at Hogwarts, Avery Sr and his wife, Letti. Bellatrix, who had been in her 7th year with Lucius, when Severus had arrived as a 1st year, and finally, Rabastan Lestrange, who had been in the same year as Bella. 

It left the last two occupants of the table easy to guess. Sitting between his brother and his wife was Rodolphus Lestrange, the family resemblance evident. Which left none other than the Dark Lord himself, Tom Riddle, at the head of the table.

"My lord, as per your request, I've brought you Severus Snape. With his interest in the cause, I assumed you would want no delay in my arranging the meeting," Lucius said.

Severus concealed any shock at hearing that Riddle had requested him, with practiced ease, simply watching the proceedings with an air of arrogance. It shouldn't have surprised him that he had been desired. As a Slytherin with considerable skill in potions, that Slughorn often called genius, it wasn't too farfetched that word had traveled. 

Briefly, he let that feeling of being wanted consume him, remembering all too well how he had strived for it his entire childhood, letting that power fill him up, but then memories of Hermione and her desire for him brought his feet back to the ground. He knew Riddle wanted him for what he could do and provide while Hermione wanted him for him, and he knew which feeling he preferred.

"Ah, yes, Mr. Snape," Riddle responded, his voice smooth and almost sickeningly sweet. "I hear that you have quite a talent for potions. Why don't we take the business discussion into the study?"

Standing, he turned towards the others at the table, "If you will excuse us. Enjoy your dinner."

With that, he led the way towards a concealed door at the back of the ballroom. Before moving to follow, Severus noted that Bellatrix Lestrange was glaring at him with a look that could freeze fire, while Rodolphus looked rather pleased.

Once in the study, Riddle gestured to chairs by the fire for Lucius and Severus while summoning a house elf to pour the fire whiskey. Severus took a cursory sip of the whiskey, appreciating the expensive quality as if slid down his throat with ease.

"I'm not quite sure what I did to upset Madam Lestrange, but she seemed particularly cross with me," Severus admitted, citing his concern at her look.

Lucius barked a laugh while Tom let out an appreciative chuckle at his observation before responding.

"Your arrival foiled her plans I'm afraid. Bella is simply disappointed that she won't be recieving an invite to my rooms this evening, while I'm sure Dolpho is glad for the fact he doesn't have to sit by while I take his wife to bed," Riddle explained with a smirk.

Severus took this information and filed it away for later, knowing it could be important, as could anything ever said at a meeting with Voldemort. His mental shields were on high alert, knowing of the man's mental abilities, ready to show him what he wanted to see.

"I'm glad that Lucius has brought you here this evening. You see, I had given him the special task to acquire you, as it were," Tom explained, slowly sipping his drink with a thoughtful expression. "I'm quite impressed with the speed at which he swayed you given your previous distance, but your power and abilities are undeniable."

Without warning, Severus felt the Dark Lord enter his mind, essentially blasting through the front door and filling Severus with an array of mental pain, feeling much like hundreds of splinters puncturing him. While many of his skills were well known, Snape's abilities as an occulmens and legilimens were a secret from the dark.

The pain of the invasion compromised his ability slightly, but he maintained his shields and led Riddle on the merry chase of memories that showed him exactly what he was looking for. Riddle saw Snape's childhood, his abusive muggle father, nasty muggle neighbors in his poor northern town. Severus showed him the Marauders, picking on him from practically the moment he had arrived at Hogwarts because he was a Slytherin.

Many nights in the hospital wing, but he had always given as good as he had gotten and worse. Saint Dumbledore ignored the incidents, believing his precious Gryffindors and that Severus was the instigator, punishing him while the Marauder got off without any punishment.

Pushing further, Riddle searched for more, latching on to any thread of emotion or supposedly distracted thought and pulling it into view. He did all of this as roughly as possible, enjoying the look of pain on Severus' face as he essentially raped his mind. Of all his skills and talents, Riddle valued his skill as a legilimens the most as if gave him the most power over others. Despite the pounding, driving, splitting pain, Severus only offered up the memories he wished to be seen, protecting his secrets in a mental vault. He offered up snippets of his theoretical debates on dark magics, altering them slightly to let his enthusiasm show. He gave memories of developing spells of questionable loyalty when the Marauders pushed him too far.

After what had felt like hours, Riddle finally withdrew from his mind, seemingly satisfied with all he had witnessed. He saw a young Slytherin much like himself, fascinated with the darker aspects of magic, hatred and anger bred in the way Snape had been used and abused by almost every person in his life. He also saw immense power and a drive to control.

As if he had never invaded his mind, or enjoyed the pain he caused on doing so, Riddle ran a hand through his beautifully tousled dark hair, composing his face back into a mischievous smirk that made him look younger and even more handsome.

"So, I hear that you are apprenticing with old Slughorn?" Riddle had inquired, even though he had seen it in Snape's mind.

"Yes sir," Snape responded, his voice and face composed, concealing any sighs of discomfort or pain. "He has me on an accelerated program and I should be able to apply and earn my mastery by August next year."

"That's quite impressive, completing a four-year study on a little over a year. You must truly be as advanced as they say. However, skilled at reproducing recipes and creating your own brews are two different things. I'm in need of a potion master with imagination," Riddle told him, looking slightly put out, probably from Snape's lack of response to the pain.

"I've adjusted every brew I have been taught and several books worth of potions I taught myself to make them more effective. I already hold patents for improved and more effective versions of aging, de-aging, the antidote of veritaserum, several healing potions, and had created my own, powerful lust potion," Snape finished with an amused smirk.

Riddle laughed heartily at this. Severus was not an overly handsome man like Riddle. He didn't have the natural beauty that some men had and his nose was still considered too big for his face. However, his features were appealing in a rougher and darker manor. Still, beautiful men, like Riddle and Lucius, found his creation of a lust potion considerably amusing. Severus knew this, using it as a strength, a show of power instead of letting it invoke insecurities.

"I am pleased Severus. It seems that you are all that was promised by your fellow snakes and more," Riddle applauded. Nodding toward the ring on the younger man's left hand he continued, "I see that you are married. Your wife?"

"Half-blood, my lord. A bleeding-heart Gryffindor in the truest meanings of the words, but highly intelligent, brilliant, creative, and just as cunning and devious as any Slytherin," Severus remarked, taking pride in his wife.

"But not working for the other side?" Riddle asked, his brow furrowed. His concern trailed off into a rant, "It seems like all the House of Gryffindor does these days is breed warriors of the light, as they seem to declare themselves. As if I am the darkness. I simply want peace for wizard kind. No more fearing or hiding from the muggles when we have the power for greatness."

"Unlike all of her housemates, she never fell for the kindly, loving grandfather persona of Dumbledore's. She questioned practically every decision of his in regards to the school and specifically my treatment at the hands of the Marauders. She is my most valued debater and sounding board when discussing the dark arts and the creation of spells and potions," Severus assured him.

"Hmmm, would she be useful to the cause?" Riddle inquired.

Suppressing the shudder, Snape responded, "She is starting her dual apprenticeships with the ministry. Studying both ancient runes and arithmancy. However, she is very stringently avoiding taking sides in the conflict, preferring to focus on her studies."

"Ah, but she knows you're here."

"Yes, my lord, she knows I value power and strength, and revenge against Dumbledore and his merry band of bullies. She accepts my choice," Severus assured him.

"Good. I think that I've heard all that I need to. Come my boy, kneel before me and become one of my own," Tom insisted, standing from his chair.

Internally, Severus balked. For the second time that night, things were moving far faster than he had anticipated. However, he knew he was in too deep to back out now. Setting his mostly full whiskey on the side table, he stood and crossed to kneel in front of the wizard he was about to pledge his life too.

Riddle, gently, took Snape's left arm in his hands, unbuttoning and rolling up the sleeves of his button-down shirt. Once the younger wizard's left forearm was exposed, Riddle gently ran the pads of his thumbs along the unmarked flesh. A gentle flex of his wrist and Riddle's wand was summoned for the sheath on his forearm and into his hand. The tip of the yew wand traced along the smooth skin before suddenly, it dug painfully into Snape's forearm while Tom recited the binding spell.

Tendrils of smoky blackness crept out of the wand, latching onto the skin and burning hot and bright as it formed into the dark mark. At this point, Severus' composure broke and he screamed as the spell made the flesh of his arm feel like it was melting off. His knees collapsed beneath him and he would have slumped to the floor, had Riddle not been holding his arm in his surprisingly strong grasp, muttering his spell while his mark burned through Snape's skin agonizingly slow.

When the mark was complete, Voldemort let go of the younger man's arm, smirking as he sunk to the floor, clutching his arm and now moaning in pain. After a short time, the Dark Lord demanded.

"Get up."

"Yes, my lord," Snape whimpered, his whole arm still feeling consumed in flame.

However, Severus still rose to his feet, standing before his new master slipping his shields back into place to mask the pain.

"Welcome to the ranks, my son," Riddle greeted him, wrapping Severus in an embrace. "Now, we celebrate! We will hold a formal celebration in your honor soon, but it is too late to summon the masses, so we'll simply put a dent in the Avery's liquor cabinet!"

Tom retook his seat, gesturing for Severus to do the same, while picking up his glass of whiskey.

"A toast! To new alliances and progress in the wizarding world!"

All three wizards drank to that, throwing back their glasses. Snapping, Riddle summoned the elf back to pour another round.

"Now Severus, your main tasks will be to create potions and spells for me. While I've seen you are a talented dueler, there is no reason to risk your potential in the field.

"The dark mark branding was a spell of my own creation. A bastardized and mixed version of older binding, marriage and slavery spells. However, the magic will bind to just anyone right now. I desire for it to be a test of true loyalty and a gift for those of my inner circle. I wish for you to develop it," Riddle explained.

"Of course, my lord, that is a wonderful idea," Severus carefully stroked the older wizard's ego. "If you could provide me with the texts you used for reference and the current spell work, I would be honored to continue your work."

"Excellent! I knew I could count on you, Severus. Now, there is one more thing."

"Yes, my lord, anything," Severus insisted, his stomach churning at the eagerness he had to portray.

"You are studying at the school and expect to take over the potions position before long as I understand it?" Riddle inquired.

"Yes, my lord. Slughorn wishes to retire after this next year."

"Very good! Now, what I want you to do, is to get close to Dumbledore. Befriend the old fool, make him trust you. Be careful not to push too hard and expose yourself, but the hope is eventually you'll be able to feed me information. Right now, we are destroying the Order of the Phoenix. However, I suspect they will start better preparing their defenses. It never hurts to play the long game though while you develop spells and potions for me," Voldemort explained.

"Of course, my lord," Severus agreed.

The three wizards sat and talked while they consumed the expensive fire whiskey and celebrated Severus' induction late into the night. It was the early hours of morning before Snape apparated home, his arm still a raging fire.

——————————-

"Show me," she demanded.

Slowly and reluctantly, Severus rolled up the still loose sleeve covering his left forearm. As the blue cloth of the shirt lifted, it revealing the writhing skull and snake brand, the dark mark.

The brand was still red and inflamed. Lucius had informed him that it would remain that way for a few days and any salves or pain potions would only make it worse.

Hemione's eyes widened a fraction as she stared at the ugly black and red mark where the previously unmarked skin had been. She had wanted to believe that Dumbledore was lying to her. That he was trying to manipulate her because he had failed to get Severus on board with the plan. However, the later in the night it got, as she waited for him, the more her hope diminished. However, brand on his arm was clear.

"Get the hell out," she snapped.

"What?" He asked, his slightly alcohol fuzzy brain not quite understanding.

"You heard me! Get the fuck out," she yelled. "I don't want you here right now."

Getting up from the bed, she shoved him back out into the hallway before pushing past him and storming towards the living room.

"Hermione, wait," Severus exclaimed, following behind her. "Will you please just listen!"

"Listen to what, Severus! Listen to you explain how you betrayed me! What excuse do you have that could be good enough for this shit?" She insisted, as she turned to go toe to toe with him.

Severus was at least a head taller than the young witch. However small though, she was fierce and a force to be reckoned with. Her wild hair sparked and crackled with wild magic.

Snape wanted to defend himself. He wanted to show her that he had done the right thing, the only thing! Unfortunately, the guilt burning through him proved all of those assertions wrong before they even tumbled from his lips. Despite his observations, he opened his mouth to argue anyways.

"I did this for us Hermione! So that we can have a life free of conflict sooner rather than later! So that our friends will be alive and well at the end of this. It was the only way," he insisted.

"Severus Snape, do not lie to me! It wasn't the only way and you promised to tell Dumbledore hell no, but you let him get to you! Let me guess. He told you that he expected more from you, that you were the only logical choice, that refusing made you a coward? You let him push all of your buttons!"

"You weren't there, Hermione," Severus argued back, the whiskey making him angrier because she'd hit the nail on the head. "I did what I had to. I did what needed to be done."

"Without consulting your wife? The woman you promised yourself to? Your partner in all things?" Hermione demanded.

Severus was silenced, unable to argue the point further.

"You didn't come talk to me because you knew that I'd talk you out of it. You knew this plan was stupid, dangerous, and unnecessary, but Dumbledore told you everything you need to hear to justify it, so you took that and ran before someone could talk sense into you. I swear, I could beat that fucking old man within a bloody inch of his life,” she screamed at him.

The sound of a door opening down the hall startled them both, as Minerva was roused by their argument. She padded the five steps into the doorway of the sitting room, watching the two carefully.

Not wanting to fight with her husband in front of her mother, Hermione turned towards the floo.

"Get out, now," she insisted again.

Grabbing a handful of floo powder and the collar of his shirt, she threw the powder into the fireplace, calling out for the 'Den' before bodily shoving Severus into the green flames.

When he disappeared and the green flame died down, Hermione turned on her heel and headed back to her bedroom. She swept past her mother without a single word, slamming the door to her bedroom behind her. Minerva let her go, returning to her room, knowing she shouldn't get involved in her daughter's marriage. They would have to make their own mistakes and figure it out themselves.

Curling up on her side in the big bed, she grabbed his pillow, pulling it in close and sobbing into the fabric as she took comfort in his scent. She hadn't wanted to kick him out, but the rage burning in her had brought several dark hexes to the forefront of her mind and she wouldn't have been able to forgive herself if she had cast on him.

Returning to her bedroom, she stepped into the attached bathroom, splashing a bit of cold water on her face. Taking a long hard look in the mirror, she grew concerned, not liking the dark rage within her eyes. With a heavy sigh, she turned away and climbed into bed. After crawling under the covers on her side, she reached over and pulled his pillow to her, nuzzling her face into the fluffy mass, his scent her own comfort.

Tears began to fall again and she sobbed into the pillow for a long while before exhaustion claimed her and she fell into a fitful sleep. Dreams were filled with images of her husband screaming in agony under the cruciatis curse, his body laid out and dissected like a science project, and pieces of the man she loved being delivered one at a time. Her mind coming up with all sorts of terrible and painful deaths Severus might experience if it was found out that he was a spy.

She awoke, screaming and sobbing a mere two hours later, the sheets wrapped around her tightly, making Hermione feel as if she was bound. Mentally, she had been bound and forced to watched another of her husband's potential and gruesome deaths. Her screams woke her mother again, and this time Minerva rushed to her daughter's side.

Gently tugging at the blankets, Minerva freed the younger witch and drew her into her arms. Minerva rocked Hermione gently, holding her tight and whispering reassurances into her ear, while occasionally kissing the side of her head. When the sobbing lessened, Hermione relaxed and sunk into her mother's embrace.

"I can't lose him. I'm so terrified that he'll be found out and murdered for it. Or that he'll be killed just for the hell of it one day," Hermione admitted quietly.

"My dear, you know that man of yours in a true Slytherin. He is a powerful occulmens and legilimens. If anyone can do this, it is Severus Snape," Minerva assured her.

"I'm just so mad at him. We had made a decision not to have him join Voldemort as a spy, and he turns around and does it anyway, without talking to me," Hermione vented. "When he showed up and all but admitted it, I wanted to hex him within an inch of his life."

"I understand, my dear," Minerva said. "It's a completely understandable reaction."

"It scared me though, how badly I wanted to hurt him because he'd hurt me," Hermione sighed. "I need to go to him though. Thank you, mum."

"Always, sweetheart. I'll always be here for you when you need me," Minerva responded, kissing her forehead gently before retreating back to her room.

Hermione stood from the bed, straightening her sweat drenched clothes and pulling a robe on around her. She strode to the sitting room and tossed a handful of floo powder into the dying flames. They roared back to life, - near blinding bright green color.

"The Den," she announced as she stepped into the flames.

Moments later, Hermione stepped out into the small studio that Remus rented in London. The young werewolf was awake, sitting in a chair by the fire reading, despite it being rather early in the morning. He looked up as she arrived, giving her a sad smile. Setting down his book, he stood and wrapped her in his arms, simply holding her for a few moments.

Hermione finally broke the silence.

"I'm sorry for pawning him off on you," she told him.

"It's fine Hermione. When he arrived and explained what had happened, I tore him another one for you. Then, I hate to admit it, but we broke out the booze. One benefit of being is werewolf is my metabolism, I can drink pretty much anyone under the table," he said with a playful smirk.

"Thanks for taking care of him," Hermione answered, turning to look where her husband had passed out on the couch.

Even in a drunken sleep, he looked pained. Frown lines covered his face and his sweat damp hair stuck to his face haphazardly, as if he had been struggling in his sleep.

Slowly, she kneeled down on the floor next to him, gently shaking his shoulder with one hand while wiping back the tendrils of hair from his face.

"Severus, wake up sweetie," she murmured.

Slowly, his dark eyes fluttered open, staring deep into her honey browns. A deeper frown crossed his face after recognition hit him.

"Hermione?" He questioned, his voice rough and slightly hoarse.

"Yeah, I'm here. Let's go home, love," she insisted.

"But I lied to you," he murmured, his eyes turning down.

"Yes, you did. And I have not forgiven you for it. I'm still mad. No, I'm furious and feeling betrayed. But you are my husband, you belong in our home, in our life, and we deserve a chance to work this out," Hermione admitted, somewhat disappointed with herself for her initial reaction. "I shouldn't have thrown you out. I want you to come home."

He looked back up at her, the sincerity in her eyes. "I don't deserve you or your forgiveness."

"Yes, you do. And in time, you will have my forgiveness. You are human, my love, and human's make mistakes," Hermione assured him. "Now let's get you home."

He nodded silently and stood too quickly. His world spun violently and he felt like he was going to be sick for a moment before Hermione stabilized him. Slightly stumbling, the pair made their way to the floo. With a nod at Remus, Hermione tossed in the powder and they disappeared into the green flames.

The trip through the floo had Severus bent on two and Hermione immediately conjured a bucket, just in time as he emptied his stomach. He was swaying and about to sink to his knees when Hermione wrapped herself around him again.

"Let's get you to bed," she murmured.

The trip down the hallway took longer than normal, and Hermione had to vanish the contents of the bucket, hovering in front of Severus, several times. However, they eventually made it to the bed, where Severus set down heavily, still fully clothed. Gently, Hermione knelt and pulled off the clunky dragonhide boots he favored. Then, she stood in front of him, slowly unbuttoning the long-sleeved blue shirt, peeling it off his shoulders. Doing her best ignore the large, angry black brand on his left arm, she summoned a rag and bowl of water and gently wiped the sweat from his torso and face. Finally, she had him lay down in his spot, pulling his trousers off and leaving him lying in his underwear. She pulled the covers up over him before moving over to the other side of the bed, shedding her robe and climbing in beside him.

He laid still beside her, his dark eyes had been watching her the entire time she cared for him and put him into bed. Tears started as a trickle down his face, and quickly turned into stifled sobs as he thought about everything that had led him into his current mess. The burning in his arm persisted and for the first time in a long time, he was truly scared. He had walked willingly into the snake pit and now had to convince them all that he was one of them. The cost of failure was his life and most likely the lives of those he loved.

Hermione felt and heard his sobs beside her and she reached over to him, pulling him over to sob into her chest. He clung to her as he let the tears fall, letting her be his strength. She let her tears fall again, crying with him as they both tried to come to terms with their new reality of their lives and the dangers of the war.

Eventually, the crying stopped, as the light was starting to drift in through the curtained window. Hermione rolled onto her side and instinctively, Severus rolled onto his side and scooted up behind her, draping his left arm around her. Hermione flinched slightly, knowing that even though she couldn't currently see the mark, she had seen it and knew it was there. Severus tried to pull away, realizing that her reaction was to the mark and feeling guilty.

She quickly gripped his wrist to stop him from pulling away, avoiding the irritated area and being gentle, but firm. Snuggling deeper into his body, she felt safe in his arms, as she had for years. The feelings of anger, hurt, and betrayal drifted to the back of her mind as she slipped onto sleep in her husband's arms. It took longer for Severus to find sleep, but soon the tension eased from his body and his mind knew that with Hermione at his side, he could survive anything.


	16. His Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! Let me know what yall think in the comments! Sorry for any typos, one of my hands is in a splint because I messed it up pretty good, so writing and editing this all from my phone is an even slower and error filled process.

**June 24, 1995**

It was going to happen that night. Severus could feel it in every fiber of his being. The dark mark on his left forearm was as black and irritated as it had been when he had first received it. And to top it all off, he knew that Albus could tell as well. The old man was fidgety in a way he’d never been before and had kept Snape unusually close all night.

They stood and watched the final task of the TriWizard Tournament unfold, as the four champions entered the maze. Standing next to Albus, among the crowd, just watching and waiting, Severus had let his mind wander. He recalled how he had gotten involved in this mess to begin with. 

Now that he was older and had more self control, Severus could see Dumbledore’s blatant manipulation on that night. He briefly wondered which had been more painful, his encounter with Riddle or his wife’s anger. However, his contemplation was short lived, he knew that facing Hermione had been more painful by far.

In the distance, within the maze, red sparks emerged, signaling that one champion was out of the running. Severus was itching to know who had rigged the Goblet of Fire, entering Potter in the tournament in the first place. The boy was obviously not the mastermind behind it. And the fear that Igor had been showing as the mark continued to darken, convinced Severus that he hadn’t submitted the boy’s name. Snape wasn’t quite sure, but somehow, a powerful Death Eater had infiltrated Hogwarts, at least once. And if they could do it once, they could do it again. He was convinced that person would be around making sure Potter did what they needed him to do in this last challenge.

Snape had wanted to be among those patrolling the boundaries of the maze, but Albus had insisted on having him by his side. The other Heads of House, Moody, and a team of Aurors were patrolling, no section of maze unaccounted for. If something was going to happen, I was going to be now, during the final challenge. Dumbledore assumed that those selected to guard the maze would notice any odd behaviour. Severus was sure that whoever was controlling things was probably among those numbers, most likely impersonating an Auror in his opinion, but Dumbledore refused to hear him out. So, Severus was on edge, watching and waiting for the betrayal, wand ready in his hand.

A second set of red sparks lit the sky, followed a few minutes later by Krum’s prone form emerging from the maze on a stretcher. The left side of the stunned boy’s face was burnt, most likely caused by a blast ended skrewt. Snape couldn’t help, but smirk, the darker side of him glad to see the boy hurt after what he had done to his wife. Unfortunately, he thought, it was a relatively minor injury and he would most likely make a full recovery. However, he took joy in the fact that it was a fairly painful recovery.

A whole twenty minutes later, with just Potter and Diggory left in the maze, a third flash of red was seen. Everyone was waiting on the edge of their seats to see which Hogwarts champion had been eliminated. A sharp, searing pain throughout his left forearm informed Severus of exactly who would be emerging on that stretcher this time. For the first time, in twelve years, Snape felt the pain of being called to his dark master.

While outwardly, he didn’t show any signs of pain that others would pick up on, Albus noticed the sudden shift in his stance, the subtle twitch and spasm of his left arm, and the clench of his jaw. Snape caught the deep blue eyes of his employer, silently asking for permission.

“He’s back,” Severus confirmed. “And he’s summoning everyone.”

“Not yet,” Albus answered.

“He’ll kill me if I don’t go to him now,” Severus hissed.

“He won’t kill you for being late once he knows you’ve been following my orders. Your job was to get close to me. He will be thrilled to think that I’ve allowed one of his own so close. So, he will punish you, but not kill you,” Dumbledore asserted.

“Glad to know you care so much for my well being,” Snape spat through grit teeth.

The hushed conversation was interrupted as a prone Cedric Diggory emerged from the maze. Dumbledore approached the boy and waved his wand, revived him.

“Mr. Diggory, what is the last thing you remember about the maze?” Dumbledore asked kindly.

“Harry and I could see the cup in the distance. We were both running towards it, but then about fifty feet from it, I tripped suddenly. I watched Harry reach out for the cup and then he just disappeared when he grabbed it. Everything went dark after that,” Cedric explained.

“Poppy, take care of the boy please,” Dumbledore kindly ordered the mediwitch, before turning to the auror at his side and demanding. “Kingsley, I want to know where that portkey went.”

“I hardly think that they bothered to register it,” Severus snarked through grit teeth.

A second and more powerful summoning ripped through his arm. The pain of Voldemort’s impatient calling felt like his arm was being flayed.

“We can try and track the magical surge a portkey would cause, but it would take time,” Kingsley responded.

“Do it,” Dumbledore ordered.

The auror sent off his patronus off to one of his colleagues stationed at the Auror’s Offices in the Ministry.

“We don’t have time,” Snape snapped. “He’s had Potter for far too long as it is!”

“You will not ruin your cover and you will wait until I say so to go to him,” Dumbledore ordered.

Severus was about to argue back. What use was having a spy if the boy wonder died that night? However, before he could formulate a reply, there was a burst of magic and light. No more than five feet from him, was Potter, bloodied, crumpled, and seizing on the ground, the glistening crystal cup laying next to him.

“Poppy,” Severus called as he rushed over to him, rolling the boy onto his side. “He’s been under the effects of the cruciatus curse. It can cause seizures in those whose magic isn’t fully developed.”

Nodding solemnly, the mediwitch pulled a vial with sea blue liquid from her bag. She had thought Severus overly cautious to insist she had plenty on hand after the Death Eater attack at the Quidditch World Cup. Now she didn’t think it so silly as they turned the boy slightly so she could coax the potion down his throat. 

Within seconds, the seizure stopped, replaced by muscle spasms and tremors as Harry’s own magic sparked and danced along his nerves, in the aftershocks of the spell. It wasn’t anywhere near as painful as the actual curse, but it provided the recipient with the feeling of having no control over their body or their magic. However, before the boy could really take in his surroundings, Dumbledore swooped in on him.

“Where did the portkey take you, Harry?” The old wizard demanded.

“It was a ... graveyard ... hisss da’ss bones,” Harry managed, working his jaw in an attempt to better manage speech. “He’ss back ... ‘mh sorry.”

However, Dumbledore turned away from the boy, consulting with the aurors and sending them off to several possible locations, to try and engage the newly revived dark lord and his followers.

Severus was distracted by another summoning and Poppy had her hands full trying to juggle the four injured champions. Both unintentionally left the boy unguarded. By the time Severus recovered, Harry had vanished again. 

Standing to his full, intimidating height, he looked over the frenzied crowd, luckily catching sight of a limping and wounded boy struggling under the clutches of the defense professor as they headed back to the castle. Quickly collecting Albus and Minerva, they made for the castle, sweeping up the steps to the Defense classroom on the fourth floor.

Blasting their way into the room, they were able to get to Harry and subdue Moody, quickly revealing his identity. Barty Crouch Jr. howled with laughter and another summoning ripped through his and Severus’ arms.

“He is getting impatient, Severus,” Crouch taunted. “Best not keep him waiting.”

“Albus,” Severus insisted.

“Yes, go. We have things handled here,” Dumbledore said, dismissing the potion master.

With a burst of speed, Severus threw himself down the stairs of the school and out the front doors. The race across the lawn to the front gates at Hogwarts boundaries took forever, but eventually he made it, huffing and puffing as he dismantled the wards in order to leave the grounds, as only a teacher could do. Once outside the wards, Snape locked the gate and warded behind him, before collecting himself and disapperating.

One of the more inspired aspects of the brand, before Severus had improved it, was the ability to apparate to the location of the summoning, by simply focusing on the dark mark and the feeling instead of an actual location. 

Severus ended up standing outside the massive gates of the Malfoy estates. He was quite familiar with this particular manor. However, what waited for him inside this time, was truly terrifying.

———————————

“How nice of you to finally join us, Severus,” Lord Voldemort hissed, from his perch.

The Dark Lord had wasted no time making himself at home in the ballroom at Malfoy Manor. He sat upon a large and opulent throne at the far end of the massive room, presiding high above his followers.

Severus steadily walked the length of the room, Death Eaters lining the path he took to greet their lord. Many of the cloaked figures were already hunched or twitching from the effects of curses. Whispers broke out around him, a general excited buzz among the members, having heard the displeasure of their leader in his tone.

After what felt like forever, despite his quick, but confident pace, Severus finally arrived at the foot of the throne. Throwing himself roughly to his knees, in a show of submission, he knelt low to the ground in front of the Dark Lord. Sharp pain shot through his knees, but he kept his composure. One thought ran through the back of his mind, shoving his pride into a deep hole. Stay alive.

“My sincere apologies my lord! I beg your forgiveness, but I ...”

The rest of his words were caught in his throat as pain ripped through his body. He tumbled sideways, slamming his left shoulder into the floor as his body jerked violently. Laying on his side, Severus did his best to grit his teeth and ride out the spell. 

It was only minutes later that the spell lifted. Breathing heavily, Severus shoved his trembling arms underneath him and rose back to his kneeling position.

His dark eyes caught the twitch of his lord’s wand and he swallowed a scream as the spell sliced open his left shoulder, cutting deep into the tissue and scarring the bone. Then another flick of the wand, and a jagged gash opened up along the opposite forearm. Several more flicks and Severus’ dark robes were heavy with his blood, the sickening coppery scent overwhelming his senses. He had managed to bite back the screams of pain, but the Dark Lord still took pleasure in the whimpers of pain that escaped the younger wizard.

“Excuses are useless to me Severus,” Voldemort snarled. “Your loyalty is in question.”

Snickers broke out from the assembled Death Eaters. Each one was thirsty for the blood and punishment of their so called brothers, their pride still wounded from their own punishments.

“You failed to return to my side when I was reborn, despite being called. And you did nothing to try and find me when I vanished. That doesn’t sound like a loyal servant to me,” the Dark Lord explained, venom in his voice, his wand rising again.

“Wait, my lord,” Severus pleaded, praying that begging would placate the monster briefly. “Please, my lord! I was just following your orders!”

“My orders?”

“Yes! You tasked me with infiltrating Hogwarts, with earning Dumbledore’s trust,” Severus explained. “The old fool thinks I am his. He insisted I stay after you called upon me, to prove my loyalty to him and the Order. He believes I am spying for him, instead of on him. But I am yours, my lord. I have been yours since you gifted me with your mark.”

Despite his begging, Severus’ tone was strong and confident. Displaying this information with strong emotions, playing his role of the devoted follower. Still twitching slightly and bleeding, his mental shields pushed back the pain. Stay alive, his mind reminded him.

The monster laughed, producing a sound that more resembled a mix between a choking and hissing sound, that grated on the ears of those gathered.

“Of course the old fool thinks he had won you! That muggle loving idiot cannot see the darkness and hatred within you that I cultivated,” Voldemort exclaimed, congratulating himself.

“Yes, my lord,” Severus assured him. “He is so desperate for a spy in your ranks, that he trusts me completely.”

“Good. We will give him a spy and get one in return,” Voldemort cheered. 

The crowd murmured their approval. 

Voldemort’s thoughts turned inward and he got quiet. Severus maintained his position, kneeling before the throne, still as a statue, knowing better than to depart without permission. However, a particularly violent aftershock from the cruciatus curse, caused him to briefly lose his balance. Voldemort’s eerie red eyes snapped back to the dark wizard in front of him. 

“However, we cannot have him thinking that I know his plans,” the snake man hissed evilly. “He must think you’ve fallen from grace, that I am cross with you for your lack of action and quick return.”

Severus’ blood ran cold and he trembled briefly before he heard the word drip from the creature’s mouth again. Spasms and pain rocked his world. His skin burned and itched and twitched all at the same time, as he crumpled to the floor once more. He bit down hard on his tongue, before he managed to clench his jaw, blood filling his mouth.

The pain receded, and he lay on the floor, breathing heavily, spitting blood onto the polished stone. Voices sounded around him, but they sounded as if he was underwater and he couldn’t make out the words. He expected the curse to hit again any moment, but was surprised when a boot connected with his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Turning his head up, to catch a brief look, he noticed two massive figures in dark robes hovering over him. 

Another boot slammed down on his hand, braced against the floor, and he felt bones breaking. Whimpering in pain, Severus did his best to curl himself into a ball. Boots landed harsh blows to his back, knees, and shoulder several times. He felt ribs crack under the force of the blows. Finally, a boot slammed down on his head and the world went black.

——————————-

Sometime later, Severus came to on the floor of the ballroom, laying in a small puddle of his own blood. His body protested as he slowly tested his weight on his elbows, quickly taking in his surroundings. The moonlight streaming through high windows and illuminated the massive hall, showing it to be empty.

With great care, the potion master made his way to his feet, favoring his bad leg. His broken hand cradled against his chest, he took a hesitant step forward. Pain shot through his knees, as he placed pressure upon his leg, and he collapsed back to the floor. Unable to stand, slowly, he dragged his body towards the exit, grimacing with the pain. He just needed to make it back to Hogwarts.

The room swam around him, even from his position on the ground, his head pounded and ached with pain. Agonizingly slow, he dragged his body across the floor.. His body twitched and trembled, blood seeping sluggishly as he tore dried blood away from sliced flesh, reopening the wound, as he moved. He left a long red trail on tge floor as he made his way towards the exit.

In the entry hall, before the massive front door, he stole a gaudy walking stick from the umbrella stand, slowly crawling his way up the slender pole. Magically enhanced, it held his weight, and lengthened itself to a suitable height. Leaning heavily on the length of sturdy back oak, with jeweled silver serpents twining around each other, as if slithering up the length, he stumbled out the door.

Severus struggled down the lawn to the apparition point at the gates. Using the walking stick to drag his useless leg along. Exhaustion was darkening the edges of his vision as he reached the gates. He leaned heavily against them, struggling to catch his breath. Moments later, after steadying himself a bit, Snape stood and with a sharp twist, disapparated. 

He landed outside the Hogwarts gates with a roar of pain, staggering into the heavy iron and landing hard against a painful shoulder, the walking stick just managing to get tangled in his blood soaked robes and knocking him hard in the useless leg. At that point, each of his wounds was oozing blood again, slowly seeping out around caked and dried blood, as movement pulled the edges of his slashed skin apart. His robes were heavy and stiff with dried and fresh blood. 

Pushing through the gate, the wards of the castle recognizing him, he staggered along the gravel walk, towards the massive structure, looming over him, moving agonizingly slow. 

It was nearly three in the morning before he staggered into the entry hall, huffing and puffing as he struggled to push the heavy doors closed behind him. Using his last bit of strength, he secured the doors. Turning towards the hallway that lead down to his chambers in the dungeon from the entryway, he felt a wave of dizziness wash over him.

As his body swayed and started to collapse, he heard a voice call to him, before everything went black and he crumpled to the floor.


	17. The Damage Done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, newest chapter.
> 
> Hopefully, some of the spelling, grammar, and typo problems are a bit better. I got smart and quit using notepad on my iPhone and started using Google Docs, since it flags things when I screw it up.
> 
> Right now, I’ve got one hand in a cast and the other probably needs a cast, but since I have a toddler, they let me keep one hand. Just makes my typing errors so much worse and slows down my progress, so apologies for that.
> 
> My Hufflepuff husband is going to start editing for me again here in the next episode or two, so that will help to.
> 
> Hope you enjoy and leave me some reviews/comments to let me know what you think!

**June 25th, 1995**

Hermione startled awake, sitting up in her bed and looking around. The heavy crimson bed curtins were still drawn tight around her sanctuary. Crookshanks still mostly asleep at the foot of the bed, he’d only stirred enough to open one eye and give her annoyed look for disturbing his rest. The room around her was silent, with the exception if the occasional snore, cough, or shifting from one of her roommates. She hadn’t been sleeping well anyways, after the events of the night before, but she still couldn’t figure out what had quickly brought her awake in this early morning hour.

She was just about to lay back down and try and find sleep again, when there was a pressure at the back of her mind, pushing her to stay awake, to get out of bed. Trying to ignore the feeling, Hermione laid back down, pulling her blankets tight around her. However, the buzzing, nagging feeling just intensified. It was like an itch she couldn’t scratch and if she just closed her eyes and tried to go to sleep, it got worse. It didn’t take long before she gave up, throwing back her blankets and pushing back the curtains quietly.

Quickly and quietly, she pulled on her light green dressing gown, slipping her feet into a pair of soft grey slippers. Departing her room, Hermione made her way down to the common room. The room was empty, the fire in the hearth snapping and popping softly. The nagging feeling continued, encouraging her towards the portrait hole. Grimacing, she weighed her options, eying the portrait hole and then the couch and the small common bookshelf in the room. 

She decided that she couldn’t focus on reading at that moment, so she followed the feeling out into the hallways of the castle, letting it lead her. Hermione traversed the long empty hallways and shifting stairs, taking what felt like a rather roundabout path to the main floor of the building.

The chill of the night wind could be felt as she followed the sensation. It seemed weird, that it would be that chilly, as on that level, the night air would only penetrate the castle walls, if the massive front doors were open. As she turned the corner, she noticed that the large front doors in the entry hall were thrown open. The next thing she noticed was the ragged and bloodied person that stumbled into the castle. She recognized the man almost instantly.

“Oh,” she gasped, “Professor Snape!”

He collapsed to the floor at roughly the same time she spoke. Hermione rushed over to him, quickly dropping to the floor beside him, pulling his head into her lap. The Professor’s dark hair was a tangled and matted mess, as she gently brushed it out of his face. She gasped again as she revealed his face. One of his eyes was swollen and blackened, while the other had a large jagged gash above his eyebrow, blood having poured down the whole left side of his face, likely temporarily blinding that eye. His nose was obviously broken, as it was red, swollen, and bent weird. His lips were swollen and bloodied as well.

Hermione took in the rest of his appearance, and was horrified by what she saw. His left arm had a large gash, that still leaked blood, though it most was caked and dried around the wound. She could see the white of his bone through the mess. Reluctantly, she briefly turned her head away, pressing her eyes shut and fighting back the urge to empty her stomach.

Strengthening her resolve, she turned back, and set to work. Pulling off her robe, using her wand to slice it into strips, quickly binding the worst of the wounds, the ones which still oozed blood. Knowing she couldn’t lift the much larger man, she wordlessly levitated the unconscious Professor, and hurried up the stairs to the Hospital Wing, Severus Snape in tow.

“Madam Pomfrey,” Hermione shouted, her voice on the edge of panic as she threw open the doors and directing Snape’s still unconscious form to the first empty bed.

Poppy Pomfrey, came bustling out of her office in the ward, belting her night robe on over her sleeping gown. She took notice of the young Gryffindor student, standing in her wing, in only a thin white tank top and short black shorts, with blood smeared all over her clothes, legs, hands.

“What is wrong Miss Granger! What happened?” Poppy exclaimed, examining the young girl for wounds.

“It’s not me. It’s Professor Snape,” Hermione explained, directing her to the man laying in the bed, strips of fluffy green cloth bound around him.

Poppy turned to check over Severus, letting a soft gasp escape her as she took in all the wound. Quickly, her wand was working in several complicated motions, running diagnostic scans while cataloging his injuries on a parchment that she had conjured.

“Miss Granger, I need blood replenishing, nutrient, and pain potions from the supply room. The door next to my office,” Madam Pomfrey instructed.

As Hermione turned towards the cabinet, she faintly saw a silvery figure, that looked much like a badger, slip from the tip of the mediwitch's wand before dashing off. Ignoring the magic, she turned towards the supply closet, collecting several of each of the required potions in a small basket, also pilling in rolls of bandages, medical tape, and a pile of clean white rags on instinct.

When she returned to the professor’s cot, Pomfrey had stripped the dark man of his torn and blood soaked dark robes. He lay, still unconscious, with a blanket draped over his waist, but folded back to reveal the highest wound on his legs, a long jagged cut that ran from his upper thigh to the top of his knee, which in itself, was a dark purplish-black mess, that was severely disfigured. Blood was oozing from the cuts, but was also smeared and caked across most of his body.

Hermione choked back another attempt for her dinner to refurace, as she passed off the basket. Poppy looked down at the contents and nodded. The mediwitch took out the potions, dosing Severus with the nutrient potion first, before turning to the bedside table and filling a shallow basin with warm water and submerging several of the rags.

“Why the nutrient potion and not the pain or blood replenishers yet?” Hermione asked, pushing down her uneasy by indulging in her curious side.

Poppy had forgotten that the young witch was still there, as she had started to clean the blood from the young man’s body. Looking up at Hermione, Poppy noticed that the girl had also grabbed a rag, starting to gently clean the blood from Severus Snape’s face while she was waiting for an answer.

“If the patient hasn’t eaten in some time, both the blood replenisher and pain potions can cause problems with the stomach. When combined, we take extra caution and use a nutrient potion to act as “food” in the stomach, in order to avoid potential adverse effects. The mix of potions runs the risk of causing bleeding in the stomach if both are taken on an empty stomach,” Poppy explained, as they both worked on cleaning the blood away.

They had just finished cleaning his body and Poppy was feeding the blood replenisher and pain potion to the still unconscious man, as Professor McGonagall stormed into the wing.

“How is he Poppy?” Minerva asked.

“Not good. The wounds can all be healed, but he will be laid up for a while. He had torn all the soft tissue and shattered the bones in his right knee, which is a long and painful recovery without everything else. Most of the wounds won't close with spells just yet, and I won’t risk closing with ditany because the internal damage could heal poorly and cause lasting injury,” Madam Pomfrey explained.

Minvera took in the young man on the bed, tears escaping from her eyes as she noticed his damaged form. While all the blood had been cleaned away, the wounds were still opened and blood oozed out. Looking up, she noticed Hermione, standing at the head of the bed, gently holding Severus’ head, while she rinsed his hair, in a bowl of water, the blood quickly turning the clear water to a dark red, as the blood was washed from his hair.

“Miss Granger?” Minerva inquired, watching the young witch closely, curious what was happening.

“Sorry Professor,” Hermione said, looking slightly guilty, but her hand’s continued to work, putting aside the bowl and gently working on drying the man’s black locks, noticing his hair was somewhat silky, now that it was no longer matted with blood, “I’m not sure what I was thinking, but it felt like the right thing to do.”

“Miss Granger brought him here,” Poppy explained.

“And how did you come across him, Miss Granger?” Minerva questioned.

At the bedside, Poppy had started casting spells to mend the torn soft tissues, mend the bones, and start closing the various wounds. Due to the jagged nature of most of the wound, the mediwitch had trouble keeping them closed, so she had to close them with magic the best she could, before applying medical tape to the seams, and wrapping with the bandages.

“I had this, uh, I guess nagging feeling that woke me. When I couldn’t just ignore it, I followed it. I found Professor Snape as he staggered into the Entry Hall. He collapsed right as I came around the corner,” Hermione explained to her head of house.

Minerva looked at the young girl closely. Hermione stood there, covered in Severus’ blood, in a thin tank and short shorts. The older witch just saw the young student with no signs that she was anything more. The girl's distress was that of someone that had witnessed something horrible, not a wife, concerned for her husband.

Reaching over to the empty bed next to the one Severus Snape laid in, and grabbed the grey hospital gown, folded over the foot rail of the bed. Gently, Minerva unfolded it and wrapped the gown around Hermione, holding her close.

“Let’s get you back up to Gryffindor tower, Miss Granger,” McGonagall insisted.

Hermione gave the potion professor one last long look, while Poppy worked to patch him up, before allowing the older witch to direct her back to the tower. The transfiguration professor didn’t say a word as she escorted her young Gryffindor back. At the fat lady’s portrait, she gave the password and encouraged the young girl back into her common room.

“Thank you, Miss Granger,” Minerva said, right before the portrait closed behind her.

———————————

..... He opened his eyes briefly, looking up into the smiling face above him, her bright honey eyes looking at him in that loving way only she looked at him, with her hair falling down around them. He hummed in appreciation as her fingers threaded through his long hair, scratching gently at his scalp .....

———————————

..... “I love you,” he told her.

She looked at him, a slight tremor of fear shaking through her as she considered his words.

“Severus,” she started.

He sat up, his relaxed features replaced by one of his usual dark and guarded looks. She practically watched his occulemancy shields go up.

“I’m ... uh, not ... ehm, from-this-time,” she finished quickly, fusing the words together, as she was not entirely sure of how to tell him.

His dark look went from guarded, to confusion, to concern in a matter of moments. He didn’t really understand what she was trying to say.

“I ... was, um, born in 1979,” she admitted.

“Uh, that’s not possible. It’s only 1975 now,” he said, his expression guarded again. “You know, this isn’t a good time for a joke right? I’m not good with emotions, you know how difficult ...”

“Oh, no no no no,” she assured him. “I promise I’m not screwing with you. I was born in 1979. I kinda, somehow tumbled through time when I passed through the barrier at platform 9 3/4. One moment, I was in 1991, and then I was in 1971.”

He watched her closely, wary that she was pranking him, but waited for her to continue.

“I didn’t realize that it had happened, until Professor Dumbledore and mom pulled me into his office. I am not her daughter by birth. She adopted me when I arrived, since I didn’t really have a home or family in this timeline,” she finished.

She watched him for a few moments quietly, gauging his response. He still had that same, dark, shielded look.

“You’re serious?” He asked.

“As a fucking heart attack,” she replied. Seeing his confused expression, she added, “Yes, I wouldn’t joke about this.”

“So, what? You’re just going to disappear again one day while walking through the platform?” He asked with true concern.

“No! ... Well, probably not,” she admitted. “We’re not entirely sure how I jumped through time in the first place. So, we cannot know if something is going to trigger it again. Professor Dumbledore believes that it has been long enough, that he doesn’t think I’ll be time jumping again. There were only two or three cases of random time jumping. Two of those three, jumped again within six weeks of the first - whether it was back to their time or another time is unknown -, while the third never jumped again.”

“Alright then,” he said, still looking uncertain.

“I love you too,” she responded. “I just wanted you to know everything first.”

He smiled brightly, smirking at her, “well, just to be safe, promise me you’ll never go through the barrier again. I don’t want to do this without you.” .....

——————————————

..... She wrapped him in her arms, holding him as he cried into her chest. They sat together at a bench in the rundown park in Cokeworth where he had grown up. The sky was dark, a light trickling rain dripping upon them. 

They had just attended his mother’s funeral, buried her in a second hand coffin at the rundown little graveyard in town, next to the local dumping grounds. He wished he could have done better for her, but as he was still a student, he needed most of the money he had made making and selling potions for school materials. 

His father had been arrested immediately after, having caused her death by pushing her down the stairs, after beating her black and blue. Now, he had no family, a run down home with more problems than he could afford to handle. 

Minerva had already assured him that he always had a home with them, so he had enlisted a local realtor to sell the run down shack he had called home for most of his life. He didn’t expect to get much from it, but enough to get by. Slughorn had already promised him an apprenticeship, and while it wouldn’t pay much, it was immediate and steady. The old Slytherin was already talking about retiring.

Breathing deeply, he pulled free of her embrace, his eyes red and puffy. He rubbed his face on the muggle jacket she had transfigured for him to blend in better. Then he leaned in and gently kissed her lips.

“Let’s get out of this rain, huh?” .....

———————————

..... “So, we don’t have much information on time travel events, but there is concern about changing the timeline,” Dumbledore explained.

They sat in front of the headmaster’s large desk. The kindly old man sitting behind it. Minerva sat in a chair beside them.

“I know we are all still mourning the Potter’s deaths, but I’m not sure that Riddle is gone for good,” Albus explained.

“What do you mean?” He asked. Pulling his left sleeve up he revealed the faded, silvery outline of the dark mark. “This looks like gone to me.”

“You mentioned it yourself,” Albus insisted. “You said he was looking for ways to become immortal. I don’t believe we are done. It may be that we will have to call on you to spy again when he returns.”

“If HE returns,” he muttered.

Ignoring him, the Headmaster, turned to the young woman, “Now, we are not entirely sure what happened with your jump through time, but it may be necessary to essentially send you back, so to speak.”

“What do you mean back? How?” She inquired.

“Well, with the birth of the Potter’s son, and now their deaths, and Riddle’s disappearance, it seems likely, that had you stayed in your original timeline, you would have had the potential to be vital to that timeline,” Dumbledore insisted. “Since Harry Potter will also be starting his first year in 1991. As his parents were both Gryffindors, it is likely that he will be as well. And the hat already determined your place in that same house.”

“Yes, but ‘back’ how sir?” He insisted.

“Well, you know that your husband’s perfected the de-aging potion and memories can be locked away,” Albus explained, directing his attention to her, instead of the gentleman asking the question that time

“Are you kidding me? And what about Harry? Wouldn’t I be more helpful to him with all my skills at his disposal? Additionally, I still don’t agree with your choice to place him with the Dursleys. I know Sirius is in Askaban - not that I think he should be there or that you fucking stood up for him like you should have-, but I am Harry’s godmother. We could take him,” she insisted.

“Harry will stay with the Dursleys. He will be safe with them and will be better off not growing up in our world,” Dumbledore replied, his tone hardened by his annoyance. “Considering I am worried about destroying the original timeline, it is not logical to place the boy with you, considering you should never have been in this time.”

The young man glared at the older wizard’s tone. “You’re insisting that he isn’t dead, that the boy shouldn’t be with us, and that she’ll have to pretend to be an 11 year old, based on what information?”

“She was not meant to be in this time,” Albus insisted.

“If random time travel isn’t fate, than what is, Albus?” Minerva insisted.

“I believe it is the product of a malfunctioning magical system, which is why we couldn’t find a way to physically send her back. The prophecy states that the boy will be the one to defeat him, because Riddle would mark him as his equal. Riddle marked him, but there was no body to recover and destroy. We are in the magical world and should know better than most that there are ways to keep someone alive while the body is gone.

“Now, the boy will grow, and in your original timeline, you might have been friends. It might be necessary to send you ack to help him,” Albus explained. “We won’t know until it is time. If we do need to de-age you, it would be necessary for the greater good, in order to defeat Riddle once and for all.

Silence followed, as he had said the three words that always managed to quiet everyone around him and bend them to his will .....

———————————

Groaning in pain, Severus shifted slightly. He tried to open his eyes, but found one to be heavily bandaged, the other only opening a sliver through the bruising. He tried to open his mouth, but found that his jaw would not work for him. Groaning, deep in his throat, in pain again, he shifted, trying to turn his head to look around, noticing that his neck was stiff and painful.

Poppy Pomfrey hurried over to the bed where Severus Snape laid, having warded the area to alert her when he woke up.

“Easy Severus,” she said, gently laying a hand on his forehead. “Easy boy. You’re in the hospital wing. You were found in the entry hall and brought up here after your visit to You-Know-Who. You were in rough shape, which included your jaw being broken. I mended the break, but had to spell it stable and immoveable so that you didn’t damage the fresh healing,” she explained to him.

He settled down a little bit and though his pain was still quite intense, he had a better understanding of his surroundings and situation. Poppy was shuffling things around a bit, grabbing a vial and uncorking it.

“Now, I’m going to undo the spells on your jaw. I want you to take it easy and limit talking for a while longer still though, alright?”

He nodded in agreement, and the spell dropped, his jaw free to move again, though his vision was still seriously compromised.

“This is a pain potion,” she explained, lifting the vial to his lips. “Though, you probably knew that. We’re still going to give you a couple of blood replenishing potions, though we are staggering them with the pain and still giving nutrient potions to avoid damage to your stomach. Some of your more severe wounds are still bleeding quite a bit. I don’t want to just mend the skin and risk the interior injuries not healing. So for now, I’m intermittently casting the healing spells on the tendons, ligaments, and muscles to knit them back together, while letting the wounds remain slightly open. Once the internal damage is healed, I can close them the rest of the way. 

“Now, you had several broken bones, most of which I was able to heal quickly, but the fresh repairs will remain fragile for a couple of days. Your knee however, seems to have been hit with some kind of blasting spell. All the soft tissue has been torn to pieces, while the knee cap was shattered, and cartilage mostly blasted away. We’ll have to regrow the knee cap in a week or so, when we’ve repaired most of the interior of the knee. You’re going to be bed ridden most of the summer with these injuries,” she finished explaining. “Now, any questions?”

“Eyes?” He asked softly, wincing as pain flared in his jaw.

“Both fine. One is covered in bandages because the jagged slice over the eye cut into the muscle. The other is mostly swollen shut due to the bruising. We both know we can heal swelling and bruising easily enough, but we know it’s better to let those heal naturally as long as there are no other underlying issues, so I’ve left it,” Poppy lectured him.

Severus nodded slowly, before asking, “who found me?”

“Hermione did. From what she told Minerva, it sounds like your magic was calling out to her for help, since you two are bound,” the mediwitch answered sadly.

Severus fell silent, closing his eyes and turning away. He felt Poppy’s spellwork flowing through him, targeting and healing the damage within. His own magic aided in the healing slightly and without his direction. It wasn’t long before she was done though, and she left him alone with his own thoughts.


	18. Something Dear To Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, enjoy! As always, let me know what you think! :)

**August 20, 1995**

“About damn time that you lot came to get me from them,” Harry vented. “All bloody summer, you all have been sitting pretty up here, with my godfather, while I’ve been starved, berated, and oh yeah, attacked by a dementor!”

Ron, who’d been listening until this point, his face redder and redder each moment, was about to respond with equal venom. Hermione quickly grabbed him by the wrist, shaking her head no. Gritting his teeth, the youngest Weasley male stormed from the library without a word, slamming the door behind him. Neither of the two teenagers still in the room noticed that the door had bounced back open slightly, the old latch failing to click into place.

“If you don’t like the way things are handled around here, then take it up with Professor Dumbledore. He’s the one that moved us from the Burrow to here for safety. He’s the one that swore Ron and me to silence regarding the Order of the Phoenix - which we aren’t even part of, so don’t start about being kept in the dark,” Hermione scolded him, keeping her tone as even as possible.

“And you’re not the only one with serious fucking problems Harry, so quit biting everyone’s head off and suck it the fucking hell up, like the rest of us have to,” she continued, a heavy note of bitterness in her tone.

Harry was shocked into silence by the strength and vulgarity of her response. He’d heard her vitriol directed at others and watched her vocabulary grow over the years, but it had never been directed at himself. Watching the young witch carefully, he noticed a deep look of hurt and betrayal in her eyes, a look he’d seen reflected often enough in his face growing up.

Gently, he sat down next to her on the couch, leaning in to softly bump her shoulder with his own. He wasn’t entirely as comfortable around her as he had been before last year. He’d have to have been completely stupid to not have noticed that she was turning into a beautiful witch. Harry had even considered asking her to the Yule Ball himself, but he hadn’t worked up the courage to ask before finding out she had accepted Krum’s offer to escort her. 

And since the second challenge, he’d been thinking about her more and more. Dumbledore at one point had mentioned that something each champion valued most of all had been taken and hidden away. After realizing that Hermione had been that most important person, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. The young wizard was confused, because up until that year, he’d always just considered her his best friend, somewhat like the sister he didn’t have, but his feelings had been changing. 

Along with increased spikes of anger and rage, he’d become uncomfortable thinking about Hermione. Thinking about her over the summer, had almost always led to thinking about the way she had looked at the Yule Ball. Thoughts of her dancing with him, as her date. Thoughts of holding her close and running his fingers through her hair. Thoughts of capturing her lips with his. The kind of thoughts that caused an uncomfortable tightness in his pants.

He looked at her now, as she turned towards him, looking up into his face. Without considering things, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. She was shocked into stillness for a little more than a moment. Hermione’s mind screamed at her, like it had previously, yelling ‘wrong’, ‘no’, and ‘stop’ within. Without meaning too, she lashed out with her magic. Her shields built up around her and tossed Harry away, sending him crashing into the chair across from the way from the couch.

“Shit,” she exclaimed, rushing over to help him to his feet. “I’m sorry Harry.”

“Holy hell, Hermione,” Harry muttered. “But it’s alright, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed you were thinking the same thing. Just wasn’t expecting that kind of response either way I guess.

He rubbed his head, his hand coming away without blood, even though it felt like his head was split open by the intensity of her magic.

“Fuck, I’m really sorry Harry. I’m just ... not alright, right now, I guess,” she said, stumbling over a way to explain it.

“What do you mean, not alright?” Harry asked, catching that same hurt look again. “What happened?”

“It’s fine Harry,” Hermione insisted. “Just forget about it.”

“No! What’s wrong?” The dark haired boy insisted, while wrapping his hands around her upper arms, forcing her to face him.

She flinched at the sudden contact and the strength of his grip. Seeing overwhelming fear cross her face, Harry let go over her immediately.

Softly, he asked again, “What happened, Hermione?”

She hesitated again, trembling slightly, the thought of telling someone else scared her. Her mind recoiled from it, knowing that the emotions someone might radiate - the anger, the hurt, the pity - would be too much. 

But it was Harry. One of her friends from the beginning. The boy who’d also lost his parents, who had understood and helped her cope, who had treated her like a sister, and protected her when he could. 

After what felt like forever, of the two just sitting together, waiting, she decided that it was time.

“Krum attacked me during the Yule Ball,” Hermione admitted quietly.

Harry looked at her with concern on his face, “What do you mean attacked?”

“We walked out to the lake, where an ice skating pond had been set up, and sat down on the bench there. It was late enough that no one was out there anymore,” she explained, hesitantly.

“He, uhm, started kissing me, which was nice I guess, but then he started to cover me with his larger body. When I tried to tell him no, tell him to stop, or scream for help, he just hit me, while continuing to shove his hand up my dress.

“Professor Snape came and saved me though, before anything more could happen. But I can’t help but fear what would have happened if he hadn’t been there.”

“Oh, Hermione,” Harry whispered. “Why didn’t you tell us? We would have been there for you. And I’d have beat the shit out of that asshole.”

“Professor Dumbledore’s orders,” she said with a small snarl. “He couldn’t jeopardize losing Durmstrang and it’s students to Voldemort’s side. So, I wasn’t allowed to file a complaint with the Aurors and Krum just got away with it. The only thing he did was insist that Krum not be allowed to come near me anymore.”

“What the hell?” Harry insisted. “So, he just got away with it? That’s ridiculous.”

“Calm down Harry, it is what happened. The Headmaster moves his pieces around the chessboard, in a game only he can see,” she reflected bitterly.

They sat in silence for a few moments before Harry spoke again.

“I’m sorry I snuck the kiss you,” he told her. “I’ve been thinking a lot about last year, you being the person I pulled from the lake, and all of that. I’ve been thinking that maybe what I feel for you is ... more, I guess.”

“Oh, Harry,” she softly exclaimed. “I was afraid of this. I see you as a brother. You and Ron both. I’m not romantically interested in either of you two.”

Harry thought for a moment before asking, “But, could you be? If we tried and worked to figure it out. Would your feeling’s change?”

“Probably not,” she insisted. “And even if it could, I’m not ready. I’m still working through the issues surrounding my encounter with Krum. I’m not ready for anything physical, and definitely not ready for anything emotional again yet.”

“Could we .... uhm, maybe try the kiss again? I mean, I’m not wanting to rush you or anything. Just maybe, it won’t feel like kissing your brother, I guess. Anyway, if you're possibly interested, I could, uh, wait?”

Harry mumbled his way through his explanation, not trying to be insensitive, but also still wondering if there could be something more between him and his best friend and knowing only had the ability to be this bold once. However, the moment the words fell from his lips, he felt like an ass.. Hermione looked unsure and uncomfortable, looking down in away from him. He wanted to crawl in a small hole and die for causing her to feel worse.

He had just been about to apologise and leave, when he felt the warmth of her hand on his cheek, followed by the press of her lips on his. Harry let her completely take control of things, as he followed her lead. Moaning deep in his throat, he enjoyed the kiss, but in the back of his mind, a little itch formed, and the more he paid attention to it, the more he realized, that while pleasant, it wasn’t right.

Hermione’s mind screamed at her from the moment she initiated the kiss. Fear was one of the loudest, but Harry mostly just sat there, let her control the interaction, so the fear faded. However, the same voice and nudging sensation in her head instated that it was wrong, that he was her brother, her responsibility, that she was making a mistake. 

Breaking the kiss off, she looked at him sadly. Before she could speak however, Harry butted in.

“Like kissing my sister,” he admitted sheepishly. “It just felt wrong. You were right.”

“I’ll avoid saying I told you so,” she said, shyly.

Harry pulled her gently and slowly into his embrace, not wanting to upset her again. He asked tentatively, “Family forever?”

“Of course,” she said, “ you’re not getting away that easy. Besides, who would save your life every year, if not me?”

“True,” Harry chuckled, pulling her to him as he laid against the back of the couch. “I’m sorry you didn’t feel ready to confide in me before, but I’m here now. How can I help?”

She sighed, feeling safe and loved, in a way a brother might hold and protect her, curled up against his chest with his arms around her.

“This is helping,” she admitted softly.

————————————

Severus Snape had only been back on his leg for two weeks. Poppy had been furious with him, starting a week earlier, when he’d started trying to pull himself from the bed, his bad knee buckling under him each day, until the day it held. When he’d insisted that he leave the infirmary, Pomfrey insisted on rigging him up in a stiff muggle contraption. As much as he hated to admit it, it eased the pain in his leg as he walked on it.

Now, he’d felt stable enough, and knew sooner, rather than later that he would have to make an appearance before his master. 

Voldemort was cruel, he understood the damage that he and his men inflicted and the limits of healing magics, and reveled in it. It was one of the things that made him particularly cruel, not only to others, but to his own men. In his service during the first war, Severus had learned that their master was a student of many subjects. As a child, Voldemort had studied human anatomy, to learn how and where to best hurt his enemies. Once in the magical world, he had extensively studied the healing arts, alongside the dark arts. He knew and understood the limits of healing magic, knew how to do damage that would cause the most pain and take the longest to heal. When inflicted on his followers, it was their responsibility to present themselves before their lord as soon as they were healed. With his knowledge of healing, anyone who tarried in making an appearance were often punished again.

So, dressed in his traditional black, the muggle brace hidden under his trousers, with his long, dark Death Eater robes, he made the trip. Just past the Hogwarts gates, he turned swiftly, with a wince and a twist, he disapparated.

Reappearing at the gates of Malfoy Manor, he passed quickly through the barrier, one of the few close enough to the family to be granted immediate access past the gates and wards. Upon reaching the doors, he knocked, waiting only moments before a house elf opened the door to him.

“I have come to present myself before Lord Voldemort,” Severus announced himself to the elf.

“Yes sir,” the little elf squeaked. “This way.”

Severus followed the small creature through the house, able to easily keep up with it despite the heavy limp. Malfoy Manor was large and spralling, as well as several stories high. The house elf led Severus to the third ballroom. It was not quite the smallest of the four rooms the Malfoy’s considered a ballroom, but far smaller than the largest. Upon opening the doors, Severus could see that at the far end of the room, a large throne had been erected. The room was empty, except for the single person, sat upon the throne and the massive snake curled around the base.

“Ah Severus,” Lord Voldemort greeted. “I didn’t expect you for at least another week.”

Severus limped across the hall, stopping right in front of the throne, and despite the intense pain, knelt in front of the man. 

“As soon as I could get on my feet, my lord,” Snape insisted, keeping his head low.

“You were always one of the stronger ones Severus,” Voldemort said, with something that appeared like fondness. “I take it that you learned your lesson then?”

“Yes, my lord. Thank you,” Severus said.

“Good. Now, I take it you are still in a good position with Dumbledore,” Voldemort asked.

“Yes, my lord. He still believes that I am his man. While I raged against his order to not return to you immediately, I needed him to still believe that I was his,” Severus explained.

“Of course,” Voldmort agreed. “And how do I know that you are still mine, Severus?”

“My wife my lord,” Snape responded. “She was murdered at the hands of Albus’ pet wolf and the old fool protected the animal. If you ever doubted me before or questioned my resolve, know that I will do anything to take my revenge on the animal and the man that protects a murderer.”

“Let me see,” hissed the reborn wizard.

Severus lifted his face, making contact with the red, serpent eyes of my man, brought back to life through magic. He felt the painful infiltration of his mind, Voldemort ripping through his thoughts and memories, even as Snape offered up the memory he was looking for, from him finding his wife, mauled and bloody by the animal, to the argument with Dumbledore. Even the retreat from his thoughts was painful, leaving Snape with a crushing headache, his knee still shot through with pain from kneeling so long.

“I am sorry for your loss, my son,” Voldemort told him. “We will get revenge for all the pain Dumbledore has caused in his time. Then we will rescue our people from the reign of the muggles, who think they can control us.”

“Yes, my lord. I will follow where you lead,” Severus assured him, pushing down the pain.

“Go. Return when I call with haste. I would hate to have to punish you for your tardiness again.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Severus rose to his feet slowly, his knee complaining and stiff. However, he did his best not to show the pain, and minimize his limp. He wouldn’t give the snake anymore satisfaction than he had to. Quickly making his way to the gates of the manor, he turned and disapparated.

His first jump took him to the alley down the road from where he had lived as a child in Cokeworth. He didn’t have a home in the rundown old town anymore, but it was a well known and convenient stopping point. It was fairly early in the day still, having been mid-morning when he called on the Dark Lord. With little effort, he shrank his Death Eater robes, stuffing them in his trouser pocket. His traditional frock coat looked unusual among muggles, but didn’t cause as much attention as wizarding robes. Stepping out of the shadows of the alley, he walked three blocks up, past his old house, then two blocks over, before dipping into another well-known and safe alley.

With his knee screaming at him, he turned on his heel again and blinked out of existence with a small pop. This time, he landed in an alley, just around the corner from the Leaky Cauldron, a common apparition spot for wizards and witches. Ducking into the tavern, he strode through without a care for anyone else, quickly moving on to Diagon Alley. Only once he was through the bricks, did he risk a subtle lookover his shoulder, seeing only the empty yard as the bricks started to close the barrier again.

Just to be safe, and because he really didn’t need to be anywhere urgently, he entered Flourish and Blotts. He headed directly to the spell theory and creation section, a guilty pleasure for him. Albus wouldn’t expect a report until the early evening due to the rather mild exchange, and the older wizard felt protecting the existence of the safe house was more important, despite the fidelius, unless it was a matter of life or death. So, Snape had plenty of time to browse the new books and bore any tails he might have acquired, into leaving before heading in. 

He briefly flicked through a new publication on developing spells, by an unknown author, before scoffing and shelving it again. The basic level how-to style book would be better suited to the basic wizardry section, rather than advanced spell theory. A rare smile touched his lips as he brushed his fingers along the spine of a familiar book. Rosalind Prince had been his wife’s pen name, per Dumbledore’s insistence that she not draw too much attention to herself. Most of her published works were found in the Arithmancy or Ancient Runes shelves, but she had published the one book on spell theory, diving into the complex structure upon which more advanced spells built upon the basic materials, and the process of developing spells from the ground up. He tucked the text under his arm, she might not remember him, but he could still provide some guidance. Briefly browsing the potion section, though unsurprised there was nothing new, he took the single book to the front and paid for it.

Tucking the text under his arm again, he headed out into the busy midday traffic of the alley. Stopping to pretend to window shop a couple of times, it wasn’t long before he turned into Knockturn Alley. He limped along until he came to a sudden turn in the road, before sliding into the darkness of an alley with overhanging buildings, and zipped away with a pop. He made three more short stops in random parts of London, traversing two or three blocks before popping away to the next location. Finally, he appeared roughly six blocks away from Grimmauld Place, walking the same two or three blocks, before casting a disillusionment charm and exiting the back side of the alley. 

Moments later, he was on the doorstep, safe from view. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself. Severus’ knee ached and spasmed, despite the brace hidden beneath his trousers. He wished that all the false trails weren’t necessary, but he had found in the old days, that he was often followed from Death Eater gatherings, and in order to protect his family, he had become a master of shaking his tails. Sometimes, the shopping excursions were enough to lose them, but that all depended on how badly Voldemort wanted to know what he was up to. Once, he’d had to make as many a seventeen jumps and lead false trails for two days, in order to be sure he wasn’t followed, other times the first false jump was enough. 

Now, despite the pain and irritation, he had to report to Grimmauld Place, where he was sure to wait several hours for Dumbledore to arrive for the meeting. Snape knew that Potter had arrived to complete the group of teenagers earlier in the day, so he was likely in for an annoying afternoon. Opening the door, he pushed in, silently past the covered portrait, making his way up to the library, hoping to avoid all occupants of the home.

As he approached the library, on the third floor, he heard voices from the slightly opened door. Gritting his teeth in annoyance, he realized he’d have to find another place to hide. When he heard Hermione’s voice, curiosity got the better of him, and he silently crept closer to the door. Peering through the small opening, he sawher, sitting on the couch beside Potter. 

He was only standing there watching them for a moment, as they silently sat together, before she gently ran her hand along his cheek and leaned in, kissing the dark haired boy, softly on the lips. Abruptly, he turned away, unable to bear watching. Silently, so not to alert them of his presence, he stalked away, a feral snarl on his face, startling the young Weasley girl as he made his way to the main sitting room, throwing the door shut behind him and heavily warding himself in.

Severus growled in frustration, racking his hands through his long hair and gripping the roots tightly, pulling more than a few stands free in his endeavor to not destroy everything in sight. He noticed the book, that had fallen to the floor by his feet. In a rage, he snatched it up, hurling it at the opposite wall, not bothering to wince as the spine on the book cracked and groaned in pain, the pages crumpled beneath the hardback weight as it hit the ground.

“Why does it always have to be a Potter,” Snape snarled.


	19. Potter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, depression is a bitch and I’m at a standstill of writing. However, I started to create again today after a long lapse, so hopefully, this story will continue to flow soon.
> 
> I still have a few chapter buffer, so here is this one. Be warned, like most of my chapters, they can be rough and weird, with oddly funny bits. Enjoy and let me know what you think.

**August 1, 1974**

“Severus!” Lily exclaimed.

She was running down the road from her home to the little public park and patch woods that separated her neighbourhood and his. The houses on her side of the park were crisp and clean, with white picket fenced and well-tended gardens outside of cookie cutter designs. On the opposite, were tall and narrow, brick, terraced houses. The plants growing along the wooden supports had long gone wild, over grown in some places, while dead in others. And the bricks were no longer red, but stained black by a mixture of age and soot. 

Severus was sitting on the one unbroken swing, having been waiting for her to show up for a while. Lily had stopped hanging out with him during their first year, not long after he had shared some of his questionable reference texts with her. This was the first summer since then, that she had agreed to meet and hang out from time to time, and that was only after Hermione had interceded on his behalf. It wasn’t the same friendship they had when they were younger, each relying on the other for companionship. 

Lily had many friends within Gryffindor House that she was closer to: the other girls in her year, her best friend Alice Burke, who was a year above her, and the Marauders. Severus had Hermione in his life. They found that they no longer needed each other as they once had, their tentative friendship that of old friends thrown together again. Happy to see each other and interested in their welfare, but oddly detached. 

As she rushed to meet him, where he sat on the rickety swing , he observed her. Her face was flushed from both her excitement and the exertion, while her long red hair whipped about her. Lily practically bounced with energy, her green eyes alight and dancing. Severus just watched in wonder, marveling at how a few short years could change everything. Once the girl of his dreams, Lily was now, just a pretty young witch. His mind now swam with images of golden, honey brown eyes and a halo of wild and curly hair, just the thought and image causing his heart to hammer and stutter in his chest.

“What’s up Lily,” he asked, mentally returning to the present as she approached him.

“James invited me to come stay with him, the Marauders, and a few others at his home for the rest of the summer, and Mum said yes,” she exclaimed, waving the letter in front of him.

Concern for his old friend bloomed within his chest, though he noticed that it was no longer tinged with jealousy. 

“Lily, be careful around Potter. He’s dangerous,” Severus warned, his expression dark.

“Don’t be like that Severus!” Lily complained. “James is sweet and he cares about me. Besides, you’re going to stay with Hermione until school starts.”

“I know, and it has nothing to do with that. I just don’t want you to get hurt,” Severus admitted. “Some of the spells Potter and Black have used against me are pretty dark.”

Lily scoffed, “As if you don’t use dark spells yourself! I’ve seen some of the spells you’ve developed in action. Madam Pomfrey wasn’t entirely sure that spell you used against James last year wouldn’t permanently scar his pretty face.”

“Pretty face indeed,” Snape sneered. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you when he breaks your heart Lily. Potter has a cruel streak, that Black exasperates. Just be careful.”

“I don’t need to be careful! James would never hurt me,” Lily insisted, before turning to stalk off, her joyous mood restrained.

“Just be careful,” he called out to her, as she walked away from him, heartfelt concern in his voice.

She just turned briefly and gave him a sad smile. 

———————————-

**March 1977**

“I caught them together,” she sobbed.

Her face was a patchwork of splotchy red spots and tear tracks, her eyes puffy and irritated, as she gasped great ragged breaths, but seemed unable to get enough air. Even though she didn’t quite understand what was happening, or translate the heartbroken sob, Hermione wrapped Lily in her embrace, rubbing her back and rocking her gently while the other girl cried out in anguish. 

A tentative knock at the door to the unused classroom, heralded the opening of the door and entrance of Severus Snape and Alice Burke. The older girl rushed forward and wrapped her arms around Lily, while Severus watched from the door.

Typical to most of Hogwarts Castle, only the staff could convince the castle to lock doors, so Snape simply laid several wards upon the door, alarms to alert him to approach, preventing the sounds of Lily’s pain from reaching the halls, and a strong shocking spell to deter intruders. After completing that, he simply felt helpless as he watched his childhood friend fall apart, while Hermione and Alice tried to console her.

“He said he loved me,” the red-head gasped between sobs.

“Oh honey,” Alice crooned. “Boys are liars, arseholes and jerks. The whole lot of them.” 

Severus cleared his throat, causing Alice to look up briefly and chuckle.

“Alright, most of them,” Alice amended. “What happened honey?”

Lily was breathing heavily, her head spinning, and her stomach doing flips. The hiccuping, gasping sobs had left her head aching to the point that her entire room was pounding, her teeth ached, and she felt she was going to be sick to her stomach. Still, she tried to open her mouth and explain, her eyes pressed shut so hard it hurt.

“I ... (gasping sob), caught James and ... um, Sirius in bed,” she said, trying her best to make sense despites the overwhelming pain that was crushing her.

“Merlin’s saggy left nut,” Hermione swore. “That scrawny little shit stain is going to wish he was never born when I get through with him. I’m going to remove his own tiny prick and beat him within an inch of his pathetic, little life with the bloody cock until he begs me to stop. Then I’ll feed him his own flesh.”

Severus suppressed a chuckle, but smirked at his witch, her foul mouth, and aggressively protective nature. Despite her mother’s vehement objections to her daughter’s crass speech, Hermione rarely put any effort into maintaining a composed front. Especially when enraged and protecting her friends, she went from somewhat bad mouthed, to downright crude and disgusting in her colorful swearing. Severus found it oddly endearing and highly amusing. It also made him very aware that he should never get on her bad side.

Alice stood slack jawed, as Lily cried into her chest, watching Hermione in open horror. She wasn’t as close to the brunette as she was to Lily, so the rather colorful and graphic description was shocking. Lily chuckled briefly, before falling back into gasping sobs.

“Hermione, don’t, please,” Lily insisted.

Despite how much it hurt at that moment, how much it felt like her heart was ripping and shattering into a million little pieces, how much she felt that she would never be able to unbreak, she still was hopelessly in love with James Potter. Her gasping breaths built upon her. Her whole body in pain and aching, her chest feeling like it was being compressed and crushed by a ton of rocks. It felt like it was exploding outward from the inside. Her heart pounding an agonizing speed and tempo, feeling as if the organ itself was suffering under the cruciatus curse.

Alice looked around the small group assembled, as she sank to the floor when the devastated red-head could no longer stay on her feet. Severus grimaced, hurting for her, despite the fact that he knew in advance that Potter would end up hurting her. Hermione watched the display, a hard mask on her face, her anger an inferno raging just below the surface.

“The hell with this,” Hermione swore, “I’m going to murder the fucking useless little whore.”

As she strode purposefully towards the door, Severus stood firmly in her way, reaching out to place one hand on each of her arms, to hold her steady. She turned her fiery glare on him, and he cringed, but stood firm.

“Hermione, you know I support you in everything, and you know I agree he deserves it, but I really would prefer you not get expelled and then thrown in Askaban for a cruel and unsual murder,” Severus insisted. 

It was at that moment that he felt the alarms for his wards start going off. Someone was within ten feet of the door. If it was just another student or staff member, they would walk on by without triggering any of his additional protections. If anyone was looking for them, they were in for a surprise.

Hermione struggled briefly against his hold, before all of them heard the pained yelp and thud as one of the approaching Marauders hit the floor, with the force of Snape’s spell. Moments later, the door burst inward, as James and Remus strode in. Sirius was still picking himself off the floor. Only once they were all packed into the empty classroom and the door was shut behind him, did Severus release Hermione.

Before James could even realize he was under attack, Hermione had hit him with three spells. Silently, with quick precise wand strokes, and deadly precision, she hit James with a powerful expelliarmus, ripping a hole in his jeans as his wand flew through the air into her waiting hand, as the young man was flown through the air. Before he hit the far wall of the room, the levicorpus had dragged him upward towards the ceiling by his ankle. While hanging from his ankle, he started to frantically reach for his groin as the third spell started to take effect.

“No, no, no, no,” James yelped, a hint of pain in his voice. “I’m sorry, please stop, stop!”

Hermoine, whose wand had been pointed directly at the dark haired boy’s crotch, flicked the tip upward stopping the last spell. Her gaze was hard and cold as she glared at James. Remus was standing off to the side, near Severus, as his loyalties were divided in the room. Black however, had regained his feet and was approaching Hermione with a scowl.

“Hey, let him down,” Sirius growled, the large, handsome boy approaching the smaller girl menacingly. “That wasn't fair ...”

Hermione turned her wand on him instantly, the first spell disarming him with the same force as she had James, the second pinning him to the wall five feet off the ground.

“Hermione, it’s okay,” Lily said, her voice still choked with pain and her face still red and puffy from crying. “I want to hear what he has to say.”

Hermione still stared the two boys down. It wasn’t until Severus approached her slowly from behind, gently resting his hands on her arms. Finally she broke her gaze and looked back and up at Severus over her shoulder. He nodded slowly in the direction of the two boys. Frowning, she flicked her wrist in their general direction, canceling the spells. Despite his dislike for the two boys, Snape cast a swift cushioning charm on the floor, just before the boys hit it. 

“And the other one,” Severus insisted, glancing at where James was laying curled in a ball.

Grumbling, Hermione cancelled the engorgio she had cast on James’ groin region. The young man vomited all over the floor, the sudden relief in complete opposition to the intense pain unsettling his stomach. 

This time, Remus raised his wand, vanishing the sick before the pungent, acidic smell could permeate the room, as Hermione still had both James’ and Sirius’ wands clenched in her hand. It took several minutes for the two boys to make it back to their feet, James still looking very pale, as if he was going to vomit again. Lily was still being held by Alice, trying to get her breathing under control. Hermione glared menacingly, while Severus stood behind her, one hand on her shoulder, likely the only thing keeping her from tearing them apart. Remus still stood apart from the two groups.

“Lily, can we please go somewhere and talk?” James asked, his voice weak. “Please let me explain.”

“You can explain here,” Hermione insisted, looking to Lily for confirmation.

Lily nodded her approval to Hermione’s demand, wanting to be surrounded by her friends, while dealing with this.

“Uhm, well, I ... uh,” James stammered, uncomfortable with what he had to say.

“Spit it out, Potter,” Severus insisted.

“Alright,” James growled in irritation. “Look, you guys know we are all animagi to help Remus when he changes. Well, on those nights when we all run together, the animal tends to take over, more than just changing alone. I don’t know if it’s the pack mentality, or the werewolf, but the animal mostly has control. As the animal, we, uhm, have experienced ... uh ...”

The young man seemed to fail to find the words to explain it. It was at that point in time that Remus stepped forward. His face was completely red, heat almost radiating off of him from his embarrassment, but when he spoke, it was clear and steady.

“The wolf had assumed the position of alpha over the group. Despite the fact that James’ form is not part of the canine family, the three of us have had numerous sexual encounters over the last couple of years. The wolf’s alpha tendency seemed to have triggered with puberty,” Remus explained, trying to stay clinical and fact based, despite the redness of his face.

“But it’s only been while in our animal forms until now,” James insisted. “Look Lils, I have very strong feelings for you. I am head over heels in love with you. But because of these encounters in my animal form, I’m confused. I don’t know how to explain it, but I’ve been struggling with trying to understand. Sirius knows and has admitted that he is gay. Remus will fuck pretty much anyone and doesn’t care about gender ...”

Remus interrupted with a cough, his embarrassment reaching an all time high, “It’s the wolf ...”

“Yeah, Remus has the wolf,” James agreed. “But I didn’t know what was going on with me. When I’m with you, I’m sure that you’re the only one for me and that I’m only attracted to women. But the moments where I am closest to my animal side, I need Remus and Sirius.”

Hermione’s look had softened, but all eyes were still on James, waiting for him to continue. He still hadn’t gotten around to how he had ended up in bed with Sirius earlier in the day.

“Look, I was just trying to find answers. I needed to know, I needed to try and figure out what was going on inside of me. I hoped that being with Sirius, not on our animal forms would clarify things for me. And it did. I’m not interested in men that way,” James tried to explain.

“In werewolf packs, the alpha tends to produce a hormone that increases sexual need among the pack, without care or concern for gender. It’s simply sexual release for the sake of release as opposed to reproduction. The experts that researched and published this aren’t quite sure what purpose it serves,” Hermione explained.

All eyes in the room turned to her, with Remus being the most interested in her response.

“How do you know this?” Remus asked her.

“Once we found out about you, I researched and learned everything I could about werewolves,” she explained. “The text that had this information was obscure, with only a small research group, only two or three packs, as the author was a werewolf within a small, multipack community. Despite close proximity, they would only seek sexual release within their specific pack.

“I’m so sorry Remus,” Hermione exclaimed, sadness in her voice, “I honestly didn’t think you were an alpha. In werewolves, it seemed to be a specific part of the curse that manifests within the wolf, instead of adapting within the pack structure like normal wolves and other canines. It usually manifests in the human counterpart as well, with the personality being more aggressive and dominant. If I had known, I would have told you right away of my research.”

“It’s not your fault,” Severus insisted.

“Yeah, Hermione. Severus is right, you couldn’t have known, and it’s not your fault,” Remus assured her. “I should have done more research into my own condition instead of trying to deny it.”

“It doesn’t matter,” James insisted. “I wouldn’t have left you all alone in that shack to go crazy once a month, like you did for the first couple of years.”

“Yeah,” Sirius injected. “You were tearing yourself apart each month, requiring days in the hospital wing, and often in pain from one month to the other with no relief. Once we could change and be there with you, the wolf stopped beating itself trying to escape. You actually got to start living your life between cycles.”

“I know,” Remus agreed. “And I appreciate everything, but I don’t want to endanger your lives ... or relationships.”

Lily, for her part, still felt wildly out of control, the pain of James’ betrayal still a heavy blow. She wanted to understand after hearing everything that had been revealed, but she didn’t know how to make peace with everything. The thought of others being intimate with James once a month stretched her understanding for helping a friend to the extreme, fighting against her intense, all encompassing love for him.

Instead of saying anything, Lily broke free and fled from the room, making her way quickly up to Gryffindor tower. Alice and Hermione took off after her, slightly slower, as to let her have her space while also being nearby in case she needed them. James went to follow as well, but Severus and Remus stepped in his way.

“Let me go after her,” James insisted. “I need to talk to her. I need her to understand!”

“Not now,” Remus told him.

“Look Potter,” Severus said, “I don’t like you to begin with. Add on to that fact that Lily is my friend, and I want to crush you for hurting her. But she cares about you, so I won’t. However, you need to give her time now. She has heard your side of things and knows about the unexpected side effect of Remus’ condition. Now, all she needs is time to process everything.”

“Fuck off Snape,” Sirius insisted. “He can do what he wants.”

“If he wants to not only live, but stand a chance of patching things up with her, he will listen to me,” Snape snarled at Sirius, before turning his attention back to James. “If you push this, you will definitely lose her. Trust me, just give her time.”

With that, Severus turned and quickly took down the wards, preparing to leave. Remus reached out and gripped the tall, dark Slytherin's shoulder, thanking him quietly with the touch and a nod. Snape nodded in understanding back before moving towards the door. Right before he left, he threw a comment over his shoulder to James and Sirius.

“Besides, if you don’t leave her alone, Hermione will skin you, and I might not be around to help calm her next time.”

——————————

**August 30, 1995  
  
**

With having to move Potter into the safe house at Grimmauld Place, Dumbledore had insisted that Severus take up residence in the Order headquarters until term restarted. Stating that he wanted additional safeguards against the unruly teenagers penchant for trouble. So, Snape had settled in to one of the bedrooms on the top floor, well away from most of the current residents, who had slowly been cleaning their way up the house. And with so many Weasleys occupying the home, it wasn’t a surprise that the various bedrooms closer to the kitchen were occupied. Up at the top if the house, Severus only had Buckbeak for company most if the time, the blasted noisy bird irritated by his imprisonment could often be heard pawing at the floor above Snape’s head and beating his wings against the attic wall.

Before the home had been acquired by Dumbledore to be the headquarters and safe house, as part of his protection of Sirius Black, it had been several years since he had set foot within the home. The older Black son had renounced the family many years before, having taken up residence at Potter Manor until he and James had moved out after graduating. James and Lily had moved in together almost immediately, getting married only a short while after Severus and Hermione. Sirius had lived with them in Godric’s Hollow, and had only moved out only a few days prior to his friend’s deaths and his subsequent imprisonment.

No, the last time Severus had been in the Black family home, he had been invited to dinner by Regulus, the younger of the Black brothers. Hermione had already had other plans with Lily Potter, Alice Longbottom, than their children - the two boys roughly only a year old at that time, so Severus had been left to attend alone. Regulus had been acting odd that evening, drinking heavily, which had never been his thing, and asking leading questions that were opposite to everything the young Black had been raised to believe. 

Snape had known the young man was questioning his position among Voldemort’s followers, but hadn’t been able to safely bring up the topic before Regulus had disappeared. The Black family had reported him missing and followed up on every lead for six months, before declaring the boy dead and having an empty coffin placed in the family crypt.

His childhood friend’s bedroom was just the next floor down, but he couldn’t bring himself to enter it. Instead, Severus sulked at every opportunity, keeping tabs on the teenagers within the house while ignoring them. He had noticed that Hermione had taken to curling up against Potter’s side at every opportunity, often reading while the boy played match after match of Wizard’s Chess with the youngest Weasley male.

Hermione, had seemed to have found the book that he had thoughtlessly abused that night earlier in the month, when he had vented his rage on it. He could see that the text had carefully been repaired with advanced spellwork, but could see through the repairs. She’d also obviously read the book more than once, as scraps of parchment were tucked in between the pages throughout the entirety, and she often marked the page with her fingers in order to reference a section further in the book. 

Severus growled aloud to think of Potter, sitting comfortably with his witch wrapped in the boy’s embrace. Despite James’ many shortcomings and faults, Lily had forgiven him and loved him, the proof of that, in the form of a sloppy teenager with his arm around his Hermione. Of course, had Hermione not been transported back in time, this might have been her life, but she had traveled. And Severus would be damned if he let another Potter have and potentially hurt a witch he cared about. Especially not his wife.


	20. The Toad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, here yall go! Enjoy and let me know what ya think!

**October 5, 1995**

The skin parted in deep, long, sharp strokes as the quill scratched across the parchment. Blood bubbled up around the edges as each fresh cut was made along the tender skin on the back of her hand. Hermione grit her teeth against the pain, refusing to make a sound. The next strike of her quill, opened yet another wound. Briefly, she looked down at the two feet of parchment in front of her. Deep red words dragged across and down two thirds of the page.

Hermione knew that she wouldn’t be released until she was done with the entire page, so she set the tip of the cursed quill back to the page forming the next word, the gleaming red letters attesting that she would not interrupt class any longer. The dot of the lowercase letter ‘i’ making her wince every time as it felt like the tip of the quill dug into the flesh deeper than the other letters. Though, through it all, she managed to keep from vocalizing the pain. 

By the time that she had finished, streams of red blood trickled off the side of her hand in several places and more blood was bubbling up to the surface of the wound, now that the quill was no longer redirecting it to the parchment. Once out of the pink toad’s classroom, she ducked into an alcove and unslung the bag from her shoulder. Quickly, she dug out a cloth and a small jar of salve. Cleaning the blood away from the wound, she scooped a glob of the salve out of the jar, smearing the thick blueish mixture over the wounds. 

The cuts tingled as the mixture worked its way into the wounds. The edges slowly started to lose the angry red appearance and the wound gained a sort of glossy, coating. It wouldn’t heal quite as quickly as some other potions, but according to the book she’d gotten it from, it would help prevent scarring. Capping and tucking the jar away, she pulled a silky, fluid looking material from her book bag, swinging it around her shoulders and disappearing from sight.

Stepping lightly out of the alcove, a quick spell silencing the sound of her footfalls as she walked down the hallway. Instead of heading back to the Gryffindor common room, she made her way down to the dungeons. As curfew was only a few minutes away, she didn’t pass anyone else in the halls on the way. When she reached the door to the potions classroom, she just slipped quietly inside, before shutting the door behind her.

“It took you long enough, Miss Granger,” Severus Snape said, from his place at his desk.

“Detention with Umbitch,” the young witch snarled as she took off the cloak, tucking it into her pack.

Severus chuckled softly, while he piled the student essays in a tidy stack, before standing.

“Ha! He does have a sense of humor,” Hermione chuckled, following him as he led the way to the dueling room.

“I am human of course,” Snape scoffed.

“Are you sure? Because I’m pretty sure most of the student body thinks you're a vampire, or at least a bat,” she joked.

_If only you knew who really was the bat_, he thought wryly.

“Alright Miss Granger, I can see why you ended up in detention,” Snape snarked, tossing his teaching robes over the back of a chair.

“Yes, well, you’re a lot more fun to tease then she is,” Hermione said. “She does have kinda a ‘sharp’ response.”

“Wand at the ready,” Severus insisted, moments before he started casting.

Since returning to school, they had gone back to weekly defense lessons. When Umbridge had started putting restrictions on the student activities, Snape had wanted to cancel the lessons, but Hermione had insisted that she needed them and would just borrow the cloak from Potter.

So, in secret, they had continued the lessons. Working on defensive spells, offensive spells, creating uses for spells not typically combat oriented, hand-to-hand combat, street fighting, and combining all of it together. At this point, rarely did Severus really teach anything anymore. They mostly practiced and continued to work on their spellwork together, working on one upping the other.

The current duel was fairly even at the time, the two combatants resorting to light slicing hexes at each other, trying to wear the other down as they moved in wide circles around each other. Despite having had been at it for over a half hour, only two spells had gotten by Hermione and one by Severus. However, the both of them were dripping sweat from the exertion of casting shielding spells. The first five minutes had been furious casting, trying to get one over on the other, before dissolving into more tactical casts.

Hermione had been staying to the edges of the room, following the directions he’d given her for fighting a physically larger opponent. Stay as wide as possible and avoid getting into a physical contest. It was difficult to keep wide as time wore on, her slicing hexes requiring more and more strength with the distance the spell had to travel before impact. She knew that his magic was stronger than hers, so she needed to do something more, or he’d just wear her down eventually. 

Taking in a deep breath, she went on the offensive, cutting directly across the center of the room toward him. Minimizing her wand movements to their most basic level, she cast several ineffective slicing hexes, followed by several strong stinging, and a blasting at the floor under his dominant foot.

Severus blocked most of the attacks, catching a single stinging hex for his trouble. However, her brutal attack prevented him from getting his own attacks off while defending. Then the blasting spell caught him off guard. He’d recognized the wand movement, but had simply increased the strength of his protego, which unfortunately did little to support the ground beneath his feet. His balance was thrown and he stumbled backwards as the ground simultaneously crumbled and exploded outward.

She took advantage of his distraction, putting as much strength as she could into the expelliarmus, despite already breathing heavily. His wand went flying from his hand, but his magical force of will prevented his wand from flying towards her, it only flew a few feet away from him. Unfortunately, it was far enough away to keep him from getting it back without opening himself to attack, or expanding a majority of his remaining energy trying a wandless summoning.

Changing tactics, he charged her, ducking her next stinging hex and sweeping her legs out from under her. Even though she had been expecting the attack, as the general rule for their matches was surrender or knockout, she wasn’t fast enough to avid the attack. However, as she went down, she was able to wrap her arm around her waist, bringing him down as well. 

They struggled on the ground for a while, as she attempted to keep ahold of her wand, while he tried to grab it away from her. She tried in vain to get off a flipendo, and push him off of her enough to get a stunner or petrificus off. Before the spell finished, he’d grabbed her wrist, trying to wrestle the wand away, causing the spell to not only push him away, but fling the wand across the room, for her weakened grip.

When he closed in again, she instinctively tried to push away with her magic, but the duel so far had left her breathless and her magic weak, the push draining her more and only causing him to shift off balance briefly. 

With her disarmed and her strength flagging, he took the advantage and closed in, pinning her beneath him. Both of his knees between hers, protecting his weak points. Grabbing both of her wrists in one hand, he used the other, to pin her shoulder down. Breathing heavily, his chest heaving, he looked down into deep honey eyes that looked so familiar to him. They both seemed to be lost in themselves, breathing heavily and taking in appearance of the other.

“Surrender,” she gasped breathlessly, not really wanting him to move off of her, but overwhelmed by his closeness.

Severus came back to himself quickly, rolling off of her and getting to his feet before offering her a hand up.

“My apologies, Miss Granger,” Severus insisted. “I got caught up in the fight.”

“No need to be sorry sir,” she insisted, turning away to avoid being caught out blushing slightly. 

She hadn’t been exactly opposed to the contact, feeling safe with him despite being in the midst of a combat. It wasn’t like the first time he’d worked with her on the wandless push, where the sheer panic of the sudden attack had overwhelmed her. Hermione had felt comfortable, safe, and even oddly warm while pinned beneath him.

“It was unprofessional for me,” he insisted. “Well fought.”

“Thank you sir.”

“I think that’s enough for the night. Go ahead and put the cloak on. I’ll walk you up to your common room,” Severus said.

“You know you don’t have to walk me back every night sir,” she insisted. “No one can see me anyway.”

“Nonetheless, I will see you safely to your common room,” Snape insisted. “Come along now.”

—————————

**November 12, 1995**

Hermione sat in the library, at one of the tables scattered about for studying. This one was a single occupancy table, sat right next to a small window that looked over the Black Lake. It was well known among most of the students that when she sat at that table, she didn’t wish to be disturbed. Which was why Harry and Ron sat at what was considered her usual table, situated near the Ancient Runes shelves, working mostly quietly, except for Ron’s occasional grumbling about wasting such a nice day.

Rolls of parchment and stacks of open books lay before her with one quill in her hand, scratching away in silky black ink, while another was tucked behind her ear. She had homework assignments for Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Transfiguration going at the same time, those three books spread before her, while Potions and Herbology papers, were rolled off to the side, the textbooks set to the proper pages, but piled on top of each other and pushed to the far end of the table, incase she wanted to make any additions before doing her final edit. It had been a habit of hers to work on several things at once from her time-turner days, allowing her to better cross reference her class materials and write more informed papers. Her class notes were littered with side notes, ideas, and improvements that she considered during the lectures, drawing from her combined knowledge of magic.

Additionally, what looked like an empty scroll was stretched out, off to the side, which she occasionally snatched the second quill from behind her ear, dipping it in an open container of green ink, and jotting a quick note. By the time the quill had been returned to it’s home behind her ear, the ink had vanished from view, a concoction of Fred and George’s that she was very happy for, since her notes for that page were ideas for the defense club lessons. If anyone of the wretched toad’s Slytherin followers caught her with the information in plain sight, she’d be carving more words into the back of her hand.

Gently, she flipped the pages of her Arithmancy text, working on an equation for the class. A small frown marred her face briefly, before she silently and wandlessly summoned a reference text from the shelves. Opened the book, without even looking to see if she had summoned the proper title - an issue she’d had when she first started nonverbal and wandless summoning. She flipped gently to the correct page, finding the proper formula for the solution. Just as she was filling the formula into the proper place, Neville burst through the doors in the library.

“I found it,” he exclaimed, earning him a glare from everyone in the library and a loud ‘shhhh’ from Madam Pince.

With everyone watching him, even the few Slytherins scattered around tables, he came up with a feeble excuse.

“Uhm, Trevor! I found him and put him back in his terrarium,” Neville explained in a whisper.

After a slew of eyerolls and quiet scoffs, Neville rushed over to the table where Harry and Ron were sitting. Instead of taking a seat, he leaned over the table, quietly speaking to the boys.

“I found a place ... for, uhm, you know,” Neville said excitedly.

“Go on back to the common room,” Harry replied, quietly. “Wait for us there. We will make our way back there when we can without people suspecting.”

The clumsy boy nodded eagerly, and not so subtly throwing his head in Hermione’s direction, as if to tell them to include her. Then, he scampered back out the door, heading in the direction of the common room.

Hermione rolled her eyes, turning back to her parchment, where the equation sprawled out before her. The boys still sat at their table, Ron leaning his head in to speak with Harry quietly. The dark haired boy shook his head no, almost so minutely that Hermione couldn’t catch it. She grinned slightly in approval, glad that some of the lessons on subtly she’d given him had stuck in Harry’s head. While continuing to work on her assignments with the same quick diligence as always, she continued to monitor the boys.

They stayed put for a while, though some of the others slowly packed up their things and left. The Weasley twins were the first to shelve their books and pack it in. Ginny quickly followed them.

Ron continued to complain as he had, saying how much he’d rather be flying, before packing it in. Then about ten minutes later, Hermione started to pack her things up, Harry following right behind her. By the time they made it to the common room, the Weasleys were surrounding Neville in the darkest corner of the room. Harry and Hermione joined them.

“Alright, what is it Neville?” Harry asked.

“I found a place for us to gather and practice for the defense group! It’s on the seventh floor even, down by that weird troll portrait. One second there wasn’t a door and then there was. I think I’ve got it figured out,” Neville said eagerly.

Hermione looked at Neville eagerly before the boys broke in, familiar with that particular hallway. When she’d felt the block in her mind, she’d scoured both that particular hallway and the map, trying to figure out why her thoughts took her to that specific spot, in her mental landscape, since according to all her wanderings of the castle, her landscape seemed to truly mirror the reality.

“There’s nothing in that corridor!” Fred and George insisted at the same time. “Right Harry?”

The dark haired boy shrugged, stood and headed to the boys dormitory. They all sat quietly until he returned shortly after, holding a blank parchment that was familiar to many of the group. With his wand, he tapped the parchment.

“I solemnly swear that I’m up to no good,” Harry incanted, watching the black ink spread and bleed across the parchment as the map took form. Then he started flipping through the pages, “Alright, seventh floor. Hmmm, here’s the common room, the main staircase. Ah, here is that corridor you’re talking about.”

Neville leaned over and looked at the map for a moment, before pointing to a place on the parchment.

“I swear that it’s right here,” Neville said.

“There's nothing there,” Fred insisted.

“Yeah, the map knows everything,” George agreed.

“Not everything,” Hermione intruded. “Teachers quarters, the staff room, and facility bathrooms are not located on the map. It was made by students.”

Fred and George raised twin eyebrows at her, before George asked, “How’d you know Hermione?”

“Gone looking for Snape’s bed chamber?” Fred asked.

“A little late night lubing up? Is that what all those extra potions classes are?” George added, smirking at his brother.

Ron, Harry, and Neville turned green, while Ginny giggled and Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Would you two grow up,” Hermione insisted, ignoring the lewd comments. “You’d have to be blind to not notice that the teachers mostly vanish from the map at night, unless they are on patrol. It makes sense, because, as I said, it is a student made map. It’s possible that they didn’t know about this room.”

Fred and George scoffed.

“Sounds logical,” Harry agreed, setting aside the map. “How do you get into the room Neville?”

“Well, the door wasn’t there at first. I was just looking for a quiet hallway to think and try and figure it out,” Neville explained. “I was pacing and thinking that we needed to find a place to practice. Then the door showed up.” 

“Alright then. We should go check it out,” Harry said, many of the group agreeing and making ready to go.

“Wait!” Hermione insisted. “We can’t all just go right now. We should wait until tonight, and only a couple of us should go with the cloak to check it out. Whether this place works out or not, we need to be careful about not gathering in groups, anywhere in the area, so we don’t give it away. I think Neville, Harry, and I should go tonight.

Harry and Ron blushed, embarrassed everytime Hermione’s more logical mind corrected them. Ron started to protest, but Harry quickly silenced him, and everyone else nodded and the group broke up.

“The cloak only covers three of us, and barely that these days. Neville found the place, and Hermione is helping me structure the group, so I need their help with this,” Harry explained.

Ron nodded sheepishly and agreed.

“Alright, tonight then,” Hermione said, going to claim a table in the common room to continue her work.

———————

Later that night, Harry, Hermione, and Neville made their way to the corridor on the seventh floor, under the invisibility cloak. They still had to move in the cover of darkness, ducking into alcoves and finding places to hide along their route, because even while walking crouched over and huddled close together, the bottom edge of the cloak would reveal their shoes to the careful observer. They only met with one small group of Slytherins on their way, but the going was slow.

When they arrived, Hermione had pointed to a small alcove beside the painting of the trolls, indicating that herself and Harry would hide in there, while Neville attempted to activate the room, under the safety of the invisibility cloak.

Hermione watched the section of the wall closely, activating her mental landscape at the same time, which she had been practicing with often, teaching herself to lock memories and feelings away at will, as well as creating false memories or enhancing dreams to have the same feel as memories. In her mind, the wall remained blank, but more and more, the pull of feelings she couldn’t quite place dead ended at this section of wall. 

Feelings of familiarity surrounding Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. Feelings of safety, comfort, and lately something akin to warmth or, dare she say, desire, for Severus Snape. Feelings of being loved, cared for, and praised from her head of house, Minerva McGonagall. The strange pull to refer to them by their first names, a strange sense of equality. The odd, uncomfortable feelings she felt when faced with Albus Dumbledore. Even the feelings of comfort around and the odd sense to protect Harry stemmed from this empty piece of wall.

As Neville passed by the section of wall a third time, muttering under his breath, loud enough so Harry and Hermione could hear, “we need a place to learn to defend ourselves”, the plain wood doorway appeared. Beside her, Harry gasped in surprise.

They both crossed the length of the hallway to stand beside Neville, who turned the knob and pushed open the door. Once safely inside the room, the invisibility cloak softly sailed down to the floor, are the three students spread out to explore. 

Harry marveled at the large spacious area that spread out before him. The room could easily fit twenty pairs of practicing duelers. Each wall was lined with tall mirrors that reflected back at them. Experimentally, he cast a tripping jinx at the mirror to see it react. Hermione had heard the spell spoken, and jumped to respond, but the spell rebounded off the mirror and struck Neville in the back knocking him off his feet.

“Shit, I’m sorry Neville,” Harry said, rushing to help the other boy up. “I was worried the mirrors were going to shatter if we hit them with a spell.”

“Obviously not,” Neville groaned, rubbing the back of his head where he hit the ground. “Warn a bloke next time, eh?”

Hermione just chuckled at the pain, comforted by the fact that Neville was fine, and turned back to her own exploration of the room. Along one long wall, she noted several dueling dummies similar to the two set up in the school dueling room, weird combinations of wood and metal, charmed to respond to attacks, block, and fight back with disarming charms. She’d considered mentioning the dueling room as a place to practice, but didn’t want to give away her secret space with Severus. Blinking back, she wondered when she’d started to consider him as Severus, instead of Professor Snape, and why.

The trio left shortly after, satisfied that they had a place to practice. Upon reaching the common room, Hermione excused herself and headed up to her dorm, bidding her roommates goodnight, before pulling the curtains of her four poster bed tight around her, then spelling and warding her sleep space.

Laying in her bed, with Crookshankes curled up at her feet, she entered her mental landscape again. The seventh floor corridor was still empty of the door she knew to be there now. Directly across from the troll painting, as she had watched Neville do, she paced in front of the section of wall, trying to put her need into words.

“I need the door to appear,” she tried first, pacing three times. Nothing.

“I need to know what is here,” she tried again. Once again, nothing.

“I need to understand,” she insisted in frustration. Nope.

Growling in irritation, she decided to try one more thing.

“I need to know what memories are hidden here,” she wished, pacing the section of wall.

Briefly, as she looked again, expecting failure, a faint outline could be seen, before fading away. She wondered if her mental space was playing tricks on her, but dismissed the idea. Obviously something was here, but it was protected with great power.

Letting the mental landscape fade, she briefly wondered what had made it necessary for someone to block some of her feelings or memories from her, recognizing the use of another's magic from descriptions in a text she had read. Her inability to gain a sense of whose magic it was, made her more determined to continue studying magical signatures. All she knew now was that someone had locked something away from her, and she strongly suspected Dumbledore, remembering coming too in his office at the beginning of first year, with no memories of how she had gotten there.


	21. A Little Too Close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright, the last full chapter I have saved up. I am writing again, but it is a slow process. Hopefully it’ll speedup soon and I won’t leave yall hanging too long.
> 
> Thanks for reading and let me know what you think!

**December 14, 1995**

Hermione slipped out the door of the Room of Requirements, close to last, leaving only Harry remaining inside with Cho. It was well known that Cho and Cedric hadn’t survived the long distance relationship required between a student and a graduate. So, Hermione’s escape was two fold: conveniently leaving Harry alone with the witch he’d been smitten with the prior year and escaping down to the dungeons with the invisibility cloak around her shoulders. She didn’t have a dueling lesson scheduled with Snape that night, but she was just bursting at the seams to show him what she had discovered that day.

Silently, she made her way down to the dungeons, knowing that he didn’t have rounds that evening. With the struggles of attempting to schedule their lessons, with Professor McGonagall acting as a go between fairly often, she’d learned his weekly schedule, knowing when he had patrols, office hours, or make-up tutoring sessions, which he unfairly only opened up to his Slytherins. This night however, he would just be wrapping up his office hours and preparing to head to his chambers for the evening. Without knocking on the door, she slipped into the classroom, forgetting in her excitement to cast a silent notice-me-not before opening the door.

“To what do I owe this visit, Miss Granger,” Severus said coolly as the door shut behind her invisible form.

She’d gotten used to the fact that he was always aware of her arrival. Hermione knew that few would be either privilaged, or stupid enough, to enter the room unbidden, and that she was likely his only invisable guest to do so. Still, she was pretty sure that he had wards in the hallway outside the door to alert him to any that would approach. 

“I know we're not supposed to meet tonight, but I had to show you,” she said excitedly, letting the cloak slip from her shoulders to the floor.

Quickly, she brought her wand up, mentally summoning a happy memory, oddly enough, one of the times that their banter had been the most easy between them before a duel, where he had almost seemed to forget he was a professor and treated her more like a friend. It had made a weird tingling feeling bubble up in his stomach, as she had watched him laugh. Performing the motions with her wand, she spoke the words of the spell. A large silvery band erupted from the edge of her wand, wrapping around her frame once before solidifying into a beautiful silvery mare, with a near white mane and dark meaningful eyes. 

The large animal stood almost nose to nose with Severus, watching him intently. Snape slowly raised his hand, gently stroking in one smooth motion, straight down from the start of the mane between the ears, between the eyes, to what would be a soft nose and rubbery lips. However, he didn’t feel the form of a horse beneath his fingers. Instead it was some kind of insubstantial force, as if something was there, but not their at the same time. As his hand brushed that boundary, he felt all the emotions wrapped up in the memory she had chosen: happiness, enjoyment, humor, closeness, safety, and a hint of what might have been longing. The insubstantial, silvery mare gently nudged his open palm with its nose.

Severus Snape let his surprise show in that instant, marveling at the beauty of the creature before him. However, that openness was gone a meer moment later as he felt something trip his wards. With a quick flick of his wand, he banished her patronus, trying to avoid the crestfallen look that crossed her face.

“Miss Granger, I’ve told you before, I do not accept revisions on assignments for points,” Severus snarled.

His voice rang through the room only a second before the classroom door was thrown open. Professor Umbridge passed over the threshold, with Malfoy, Nott, and Parkinson in tow, each with an evil gleam in their eyes. 

“Problems, Professor Snape?” Umbridge inquired sweetly, a definite hint of menace in her voice.

“Not at all, madam,” Severus assured her, adapting his public voice, the rich, smooth notes a seductive purr. “I was simply reminding Miss Granger about my grading policy.”

“So late in the evening?” Dolores inquired, arching an eyebrow.

Hermione’s face burned bright red with the insinuation, while the Slytherin boys leered at her, and Parkinson smirked at her humiliation. Severus remained his stoic mask of indifference.

“There is no limit to the bounds of a know-it-all Gryffindor,” Snape responded, his tone expressing extreme boredom.

“Yes, well, you would know all about know-it-all Gryffindors, now wouldn’t you Professor,” Umbridge stated. Before giving him a chance to respond, she continued. “While I care not for your particular proclivities. I am invested in the care of students who break the rules. As Miss Granger is out, after curfew, I’ll take this situation in hand.”

Severus burned with a silent, but intense rage at the gaul of the woman, but he remained quiet and impassive. Hermione’s cheeks burned and she stared at her feet now, unable to stand the suggestive stares. She knew that on the morrow, it would be all over the school, as the Slytherins suggested she was getting her grades by sleeping with her potion’s professor.

“Miss Granger, that will be 50 points from Gryffindor and a week's worth of detentions. Quite fair for your particular transgressions, don’t you think?” Dolores stated, her sickly sweet voice dripping with unrestrained scorn and judgement at her suggestive remarks.

“Now, Professor Snape, you may retire for the evening. Mr. Malfoy will escort Miss Granger back to her common room,” Umbridge declared.

“I think not, Madam,” Severus insisted, knowing he was digging a deeper hole, but not trusting the young pureblood heir. “As you said, it is past curfew and even our Prefect and Head students need to be in bed at this time. And of course, such a inconsequential task is beneath your station. I’ll escort Miss Granger back to her common room.”

“Of course, Professor,” Dolores giggled, a twisted gleam in her eyes. “We wouldn’t want anything unfortunate to befall our young and impressionable Miss Granger.”

“Good evening, Madam,” Severus announced.

The tall, dark potion master, ushered the group out of his classroom, firmly grasping Hermione by the upper arm. The Slytherins delved deeper into the dungeons, not needing to be told twice to return to their common room. While Umbridge followed the pair to the main floor, before continuing her search of rule breaking students in a different direction, departing with a demented giggle. Once out of range of the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Snape’s grip on the young girl's arm loosened, but he still led her firmly by the appendage. It was only once they made it to the sixth floor, that he gently led her into an empty classroom. With quick and precise wand movements, he heavily warded and locked the door, before turning on the girl.

“That was quite unfortunate, and very careless of you to get caught approaching my classroom, Miss Granger,” Snape insisted sternly, beginning to pace the length of the classroom. “We will of course have to cancel any further lessons.”

Inside he screamed and railed against the attitude and assumptions of the self-righteous toad. The rumors that would begin spreading in the morning would discredit the girl and bring ridicule down upon her. Not to mention the cruelty of Umbridge’s detentions that she now needed to serve. Add into that the despair that he felt at ending her lessons, not being able to see, speak, and just enjoy her company as often.

In his intense irritation and consuming throughs, he didn’t hear her approach until she spoke.

“Please Professor, you cannot cancel our lessons,” she pleaded.

Severus turned around to face her suddenly, not realizing just how close she had gotten to him in his distraction. He was practically standing on top of her as he turned, having to look down into her youthful face, while she looked up at him. His heart started pounding and he stilled, not daring to move, even to create distance between them.

Hermione Granger was very much starting to look like his wife, and less like the young girl. With the time turner assistance, she was likely seventeen years old, and closer to eighteen in the coming spring, rather than her normal fall birthdate. She had grown, her facial features losing the slight, adorable roundness of youth. Her controlled golden brown hair framing her soft face, with sparkling honey colored eyes, dainty nose, and lush, pouting lips. Her body had developed the curves and accents of womanhood, and she began to look much like he remembered her, only without the self-confidence and stature of her age and maturity.

He wanted to devour her, lean in and capture her lips with his. Crush her body tight against his own, his large hands running up and down her back, tracing the delicious curves of her rear, as he plundered her mouth. He wanted to lift her much smaller body into his arms, feel her wrap her legs around him and run her fingers through his hair.

Severus’ breathing was heavy, his body radiating heat, and his pupils blown with desire. Slowly, as if fearing to startle a skittish animal, he lifted his right hand, allowing his long fingers to gently trace the soft skin along her jaw, before letting the warmth of his palm caress her cheek.

Hermione was completely still, watching his careful and gentle moments, only moving the smallest amount to lean in to the touch of his hand on her cheek, and gravitate towards the force and will of his body. Staring up into his endless, consuming dark eyes, she was enthralled with him. The presence within her mind roared in approval, drawing her more and more into his enchanting depths. Pushing her forward to lift onto her toes and capture his lips in a kiss.

Her movement into him and the silky feeling of her lips against his own, opened a floodgate within him. Snape pursued her, leaning down and into the kiss and his lips moved against hers. His left hand moved up to tangle into her hair as he brushed the tip of his tongue against her lips, seeking to deepen the kiss. She gasped in pleasant surprise, opening herself up as he delved deeper. His right hand slid down her body to rest on her hip, pulling her in to him, with his knee pressing between her thighs as her body pushed her forward, as if trying to become one with him. She could feel his arousal pressed into her as she strained against him, her arms wrapping around him.

Slowly, the kiss gentled, and he allowed his left hand to drift from her hair, to cradle her face. It was then that she felt the cold metal against her face and she broke away from him. Hermione’s eyes darted to his hand as he looked upon her with sudden confusion breaking through his lust fogged mind. She took in the sight of the silvery metal band wrapped around his third finger and gasped in equal shock and horror.

Severus could only think that she looked glorious, taking in her kiss swollen lips and tousled hair. Then the tears started to leak down her cheeks and his mind cleared, realizing she stared at him in horror.

“I’m so sorry, Professor, that was, uhm,” she stalled, her voice choked with tears that ran down her face.

Before he could reply, Hermione had bolted from the room, leaving a dumbstruck Snape in her wake. She took the stairs two at a time, crossing the distance between him and the safety of the curtains of her bed in no time. As the wards settled around her, she sank into the bedding sobbing,

_ How stupid could I be _ , she thought in despair.  _ Not only is he a teacher, but that ring says he’s still devoted to his dead wife. And I throw myself at him. How much more of a silly school girl could I be! _

——————————

**December 19, 1995**

Detentions with Umbridge had been quite a bit more miserable than usual. The fat witch had doubled the length of the parchment that Hermione had to complete each night before she would be released. And the back to back detentions wouldn’t let the wounds on the back of her hand heal in the slightest before the next one. 

Starting the second night, with already open wounds had broken down every defense she had built up, giving the toad the intense satisfaction of hearing Hermione gasp, groan, moan, and whimper in pain, as tears tracked down her face. After that, she’s taken to having to use essence of dittany on the wounds, closing them rapidly, despite knowing it would cause more scarring. Umbridge also seemed to know this fact as well, because even though it was obvious that the teacher had been disappointed to see the wounds completely healing on the third night, an evil gleam in her eyes showed that she understood the price Hermione was paying. 

Additionally, it seemed the instructor had added another spell to the quill after that, preventing the wounds from being healed or numbed immediately. It was only shortly before detention the next night, that the potion would work, instead of just helplessly sliding off the wound. It insured that the newest set of wounds would remain bright red, bloody, and irritated for most of the following day.

Classes had already been difficult enough with the Slytherin’s spreading rumors regarding herself and Professor Snape. Much of the school, especially Gryffindor house, had turned against her, including Ron. However, the remainder of the Weasleys, Neville, and Harry had remained steadfast. They had closed ranks, trying to keep her from noticing the whispers, looks of horror, and salacious glances that went everywhere she did these days. It was impossible not to notice though, despite her friend’s attempts to shield her, and she trugged through the days with her head ducked low, trying to hide burning cheeks.

Considering the added spellwork to the quill, Hermione decided it was a shame the witch wasn’t more careless and hadn’t cursed the wounds not to heal at all, or it would have given good cause for Umbridge to be removed from her position. The wretched toad had done a fully through job of making sure her supposed dirty little secret was spread throughout the school, and her humiliation complete.

On the fourth night, with a new phrase being given to her for lines each night, maximizing the scarring effect, Hermione had tried taking the quill into her left hand. Despite the fully healed cuts, the skin on the back of her left hand, her off hand, was incredibly tender. The young witch had hoped using her minimal skill with her left hand, that the slicing would also change sides. While she wasn’t keen on having two hands scarred up, she knew she’d have trouble making it through the remaining detentions without something else to help. However, as her shaky left hand created the strokes of the works, the cuts still appeared on the back of the left. Growling in irritation, Hermione switched the quill back to her dominant side, under the watchful eye of the instructor. 

The most recent set of lines were by far the worst the witch had required. Things like ‘I will not be in the hallways after curfew’ or ‘I will not break school rules’ were tedious, but didn’t bother her. However, tonight, she’d been set to write four feet of parchment worth of ‘I will not be inappropriate with a professor’. Each word cut into the back of her left hand was red and irritated, standing out from the scarred and blotchy red background of her hand. 

Hermione was only one foot in when tears started leaking down her face. At two feet, her lower lip was raw and bloody from where she chewed on it, trying to bite back the sounds. At three feet, the young witch was seriously considering how many years of Azkaban she would get for shoving the cursed quill down the pink toad’s throat, and if it would be worth it. By the time she had finished all four feet of parchment, she was pale from the blood loss and the pain, and whimpering at the slightest movement of the quill, while the statement on her hand was so large, wide, and deep, it could probably be read across the room. Shame flushed hot and red in her cheeks as she looked upon the new markings on her skin.

With an evil smirk, Umbridge said, “Well, maybe that will help you learn your lesson. We might even stick with that statement for the rest of your detentions. Just to drive the point home! Anyways, dismissed until tomorrow. And don’t dawdle. It’s almost curfew and we’d hate to add on more detention, wouldn’t we?”

Hermione just nodded, biting her painfully shredded lip to keep from speaking her mind in the woman’s presence. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she stormed from the room, careful to not slam the door or give the woman any excuses for more detentions. Blood dripped from the back or her hand as she walked, the drops a consistent plop, in time with her steeps as she headed towards Gryffindor Tower.

“To hell with that goddamn, goblin-cock sucking bitch. I’d love to see her worthless, saggy cunt removed and impaled on that cursed quill before the whole thing was shoved down her throat,” she growled in low tones as she walked, racking her brain for more and more creative swears. 

“Troll piss drinking, dragon ball swallowing, giant ass licking, mother fucking, crab infested cheap whore.”

“Language, Miss Granger,” a silky voice scolded her as she rounded a corner.

Hermione stopped abruptly, nearly barreling into the tall, dark, and imposing figure of Severus Snape in her haste to return to her common room. She looked up into his blank face. This close to him, she could smell what she had come to think of as his scent: fresh earth, nutmeg, and parchment. She breathed in deeply, before regretting it and trying to hide the lust drugged look in her eyes by staring down. It was then that she noticed her hand was still bleeding onto the stone floor and tried to wipe the pooling blood on her skirt.

Severus’ attention was drawn to the way she reacted to him, watching her take in his scent and proximity, before dropping her eyes to the floor, a pretty pink blush staining her face and down her neck. He hadn’t meant to startle her or really interrupt at all - her creative string of swearing hitting the nail on the head. Besides, it had felt normal for a brief moment, as if she was beside him, swearing in regards to one of Albus’ stupid inititives for the school or something the Ministry had done. It was only his distraction that had caused him to reveal himself, as Severus had not hidden or departed before she had nearly run into him. 

“Sorry sir,” she muttered.

However, he ignored her comment, reaching forward to take her left wrist in his hand and pulling it towards him, so that he could see the extent of the injuries. His eyes scanned the words cut into the back of her hand, his blood boiling in rage at the Defense Professor. Snape noticed that Hermione’s face went from pink to bright red as he observed the statement. 

In the blotchy redness of her skin, he could see other words cut in, the letters a pale pink in the background. Pulling her gently into an empty classroom, he walked her backwards until she ran into the side of a table and leaned against it.

“You’ve been using dittany,” he observed.

She didn’t respond, except to gasp gently, as large, strong hands lifted her up to sit on the table instead of leaning against it. Severus reached out and pulled a chair in behind him, sitting before taking her hand in his own again, to study it. The pad of his thumb brushed softly against the raised edges of the carved letters, feeling the subtle lift where the previous letters had been healed.

“Dittany will cause the worst scaring out of all the healing options in this case,” Snape lectured.

“I know that,” Hermione snapped at him. 

“Then why use it,” he growled back, looking into her eyes.

She looked away quickly.

“I’d been using the knitting salve, but it left the wound open initially, closing it only after a couple of days. Even with a numbing solution, the pain was too excruciating to manage using the quill again, while the wound was still open. Dittany at least closed the wound,” she responded.

“Of course,” he acknowledged. “But those aren’t the only two options.”

Continuing to brush his thumb over the wounds, he began to chant. By the third cycle, the redness and irritation was sucked out of the wound. On the fifth, she could see the cuts starting to mend and the flesh merging back together. After the tenth cycle, he stopped, removing his hands from hers and revealing creamy white skin, where a blotchy red mess had been, with a fresh wound. Putting her hand in front of her face, she observed. Only a few faint silvery scars remained, that looked like letters only when closely examined.

“How did you do that?” Hermione gasped. “She’d cursed the quill to prevent healing immediately and I’ve never come across anything like this.”

Severus cleared his throat uncomfortably, before admitting, “My wife designed it years ago, but never published it. She used it to heal me up when I would return in bad shape.”

Hermione knew he was referring to his Death Eater past. Dumbledore had told them over the summer that Severus had been a spy for the Order of the Phoenix in the first war, and had resumed the role when Voldemort had risen again at the end of last school year.

“Unfortunately, I cannot completely heal the scars from the dittany uses, but they have considerably faded,” he continued.

“Thank you very much, Professor, this is worlds better than it was,” she gushed, gently prodding her hand. “And it’s not quite as sensitive as when I heal it with the salve.”

“Yes well, I know you have several days of detention left. If you will go to Professor McGonagall’s office after your detention, I can meet you there, or she can summon me, to perform the spell again,” Severus offered her, before turning to leave.

“Wait,” she exclaimed.

He stopped, but only turned half back towards her, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry for the other night, sir. I was out of line and shouldn’t have done that. It won’t happen again,” she said.

_ Of course _ , he thought,  _ who could ever be attracted to me, considering the other options. Besides, everytime I turn around, she’s clinging to Potter. _

“It was unprofessional of me to allow us to fall into that position in the first place, Miss Granger. I still think it best if we discontinue our lessons. Things are getting more and more precarious with a certain unpleasant witch running around,” Snape declared, though the last thing he wanted to do.

“Please sir!” Hermione begged. “Please don’t stop the lessons! I’m learning loads more from you than from any of the other defense professors. I mean, Remus was great and all, but you are worlds better. And let’s face it, the rest have been utterly useless.”

Snape looked into her bright honey eyes, the knowledge hungry sparkle in their depths. Her broad smile turned up at him, making his knees weak. She looked so much like his wife these days, having grown into her body, like the woman she was, instead of the scrawny child. 

When she had kissed him the other night, he had thought for a brief instant, that his barrier in her mind had failed and that she remembered him. However, the way she had fled had brought him back to reality. He was a master of the mind arts. His barrier would not fade until she turned twenty one and it disappeared naturally. Why she had kissed him, if her memories had not been returned, had still been a mystery, as was why she had fled, but either way, his heart ached at the thought of continuing to be so close to her after that little taste. Though, he’d never been very good at denying her anything.

“I will consider it Miss Granger,” he conceded. “Your detentions will take you up to the Christmas break. When classes resume in January, I will make my decision and let you know.”

“Oh thank you sir,” she exclaimed, launching forward to wrap her arms around him.

Severus brought his hands out, long fingers wrapping around her upper arms, just above the elbows, to keep her from throwing herself into his arms.

“That is enough, Miss Granger,” he snarled. “Part of the arrangement is keeping this professional. You are the student and I am the teacher. We are not friends, or anything else.”

Her jubilant face fell and her eyes watered slightly, but understanding was quick to follow.  _ He’s still devoted to his wife _ , she scolded herself.

“Yes sir,” she said. “Of course.”

“Good night then, Miss Granger,” Severus insisted, before reaching into his pocket and pulling forth a silvery, water like substance. “And I believe Potter would probably like to have this back.”

“Thank you sir,” Hermione responded. “I hadn’t had the heart to tell him that I had lost it yet.”

Sweeping the cloak around her, she disappeared from view. Severus could feel her presence in the room, as she moved past him towards the door. The wooden barrier opened just a crack, before closing again softly, the click of the lock barely audible. 

—————————-

Severus breathed deeply, trying to reign in his temper. However, it didn’t work and he was quickly flipping the dinning table in his room, followed quickly by his desk, before kicking out and knocking his heavy wing back over.

Destroying his room didn’t seem to have the desired effect, so he took his fists to the stone wall of his chambers, punching out repeatedly until both were bruised, bloody, and broken. Collapsing to the floor, he leaned his back heavily against the cold stone. Looking at his damaged hands he sighed, knowing he would get an ear full from Poppy or Minerva, but most likely both.

”Gods I could use a drink,” he muttered sullenly.

His wife had rejected him. Well, rather the girl had rejected him. She had initiated contact and then withdrawn, obviously coming to her senses. No one would want to be with the greasy dungeon bat. Even as a child he was rejected by almost everyone. Lily had been enthralled by his magic. Remus had been desperate for friends and shared many interests with Hermione, and had befriended Severus in the process. Minerva had practically acted as his mother once Hermione had come into his life. While he didn’t resent or reject these relationships, none of them had happened, simply because of who he was.

Hermione had been the only one to accept him for himself. She had stubbornly insisted on being his friend, for reasons he had never understood. When he had shown her his darker side, she had embraced it and him, helping him to better understand the magic instead of rejecting him because of it.    
  


Even now, her magic was calling to him. He had been shocked to see her patronus take the shape of a mare. Severus would have put money on it still being the small, quick, lithe black bat that matched her animagus. Seeing that it had changed, feeling the emotions coursing through the life of the spell. He could tell that her magic was strong enough to be calling to him through the block. However, that didn’t mean that her feelings for him were pushing through the block. 

It was obvious, based on the fact he was being rejected by her. Logically he knew that it wasn’t her. His Hermione was still locked away behind the wall he had built. This Hermione hadn’t grown up with him. She had only ever known him as her mean, ugly teacher who had never given her a fair chance in his class. While it was true that they had grown closer during their defense lessons, she had begun to uncover the reasons behind his considerably biased approaches to class. 

Still, the rejection hurt. It burned through his veins with more rage and fire than any of the harmful pranks the Marauders had played on him, simply because he was different, obviously poor, and worst of all, a half-blood Slytherin without the family connections to be brought under the safety of his house without proving his worth. It hurt more than the first time he realized that Lily didn’t think of him as anything more than an occasional friend, back in first year when he had been completely enthralled with the red-headed witch, his first real friend, and thought her a goddess brough to right all the wrongs that had happened to him. It hadn’t taken him long to figure out that Hermione had been his real savior, after a short stint of childhood heartbreak.

In his eyes, she was the beautiful young witch that had insisted on being his friend despite everyone else's opinion about him. The powerful woman that fought ferociously for her family and friends, always giving as good as she got, if not better. The woman that against all odds, had chosen him. And now he was living his worst nightmare: he was losing her.


	22. Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, apologies, I practically had to force this chapter out of my head. Not sure what my update timeline will look like for a while, but thanks for hanging in there with me!
> 
> As always, review and let me know what you think please!

**December 22, 1995**

Minerva sighed heavily, as she entered her private chambers. The house elves had been at it again, she had noticed walking into the beautifully decorated sitting room. A large tree, bedecked with fairy lights, tinsel, and ornaments, now adorned the far corner of the room, garlands hung about the mantel, and a large, spice scented fire burned in the hearth.

Once more Christmas had come to Hogwarts, the tall, dark castle standing proud against the Scotish highlands winter. Heavy snows had been falling the last few days, though it was mostly only a skeleton staff there at the school to witness it. With times getting darker, almost by the hour, almost all students had gone back home for the holidays.

The elves had been busy helping Filius decorate most of the castle, though they always managed to find time to decorate the staff quarters mere days before the holiday, if decorations had not already been put in place. The younger witch had always had a love for Christmas, and took great pleasure in decorating, not only her and Severus’ chambers, the Snape family home, and the McGonagall home, but Minerva’s chambers at Hogwarts as well. The first year that Hermione had been gone, the holiday had snuck up on the greying, old witch. The decorations the house elves had provided, starkly different from her daughter’s more refined tastes. The little creatures were more like children in their decorating style, using lots of lights, glitter, and tinsel. Hermione’s style had always been more refined and stately. A massive tree, though lightly supplied with more rustic ornaments, dusted with her own brand of miniature fairy lights in warm white and blue. The room would smell of pines and apple cider for weeks following the holiday. 

Now, those decorations were boxed up in the attic, at the Snape family home, if Minerva had to guess. It had been many years since she had seen the familiar decorations adorning her life. Truth be told, the older witch was quite cross with her Hermione. Minerva did not agree in the slightest with the way her daughter had done things before her absence. She understood Severus’ frustration and anger all too well, as Hermione had done a good job of disappearing from both of their lives. 

Sniffing softly to herself, Minerva thought with annoyance, at least Severus got to say a proper goodbye.

——————————

**September 1, 1991**

“Good morning sweet girl,” Minerva greeted her daughter, as the door to her chambers admitted the young witch.

“Good morning mum, ready for another school year?” Hermione joked softly, a small smile on her face.

“Oh, as ready as I’ll ever be,” Minerva exclaimed, gesturing to the chair across from her and the fresh tea service on the table.. “We’re getting another Weasley this year! If this one is anything like the twins, we are in trouble.”

“You’ve said that about pretty much every Weasley to date, mum! Bill was a wonderful student, Charlie a little wild, but well behaved. Honestly, it’s only been the twins that get into trouble and they do it in the most spectacular and brilliant ways! Oh how I wish they could have been convinced to take Ancient Runes, I would have loved to have them in my classes,” Hermione gushed, having seated herself and started making a cup.

“Speak for yourself,” Minerva scoffed into her tea. “You haven’t had them turning entire classes of students into dinnerware!”

“Oh, I would have loved to see that,” Hermione smirked. “Flawless technique I’m sure?”

“Of course! That’s the most frustrating part! It’s so hard to justify punishing them, when they pull off spectacular stunts like that,” Minerva complained.

They fell silent for a short time, each sipping on their tea, and enjoying the company. Hermione was nibbling on a biscuit when her mother spoke again. 

“It’s time though,” the older witch said softly. “Harry Potter is coming to Hogwarts.”

“I know,” Hermione replied bitterly, staring into her tea, as if looking for answers.

Minerva stayed quiet. She knew that the boy was a sore subject. Hermione had strongly disagreed with Dumbledore regarding the placement of the boy at the Dursley home. James and Lily would have been horrified at even the suggestion and it hurt Hermione to go against what would have been her friend’s wishes. The younger witch had strongly believed that as his godmother, she should have raised Harry. Severus had even been on board, despite his dislike of Potter and stood by his wife, but in the end, Dumbledore had gotten his way.

Hermione could still barely believe that Sirius had betrayed the Potters, and had fought with Dumbledore and the Ministry to see the Marauder in Azkaban, but had been denied each time. Severus had suggested that they feared for the imprisoned man’s life if she did determine that he really had killed her friends. She had chuckled briefly at that, though didn’t deny it.

Honestly, Hermione still hadn’t known what and how everything had happened that night. She didn’t have answers for why Sirius supposedly betrayed them, or why Peter Pettigrew was even involved. The three other Marauders had drifted away from the smaller boy in their later years at Hogwarts, and Peter had not been asked to join the Order of the Phoenix. Pettigrew had still tried to hang out with the other boys as often as possible, but James, Sirius, and Remus had been much closer and more and more had started to do things without the fourth member. By the time the Potter’s had died, Peter was barely even around, so why had Sirius gone after him that night, Hermione wondered.

“Enough of that though,” Minverva insisted, interrupting the dark thoughts. “Got everything planned out for this year? Any promising NEWT students?”

Hermione’s smile returned, but it didn’t entirely reach her eyes, as she engaged in conversation with her mother again. They spoke about students they had in common, projects and lessons they had planned. They spoke of Severus, and his annoyance at Albus for passing him up for the Defense Against The Dark Arts position again. It was closing in midday when Hermione stood up and stretched.

“I unfortunately have a meeting with Albus to get too, or I’d sit and talk to you until the sorting,” the younger witch insisted.

“Bah, Albus can wait!” Minerva urged. “The old goat monopolises enough of our time at the beginning of the year with staff meetings and such! I can’t have him interrupting tea with my daughter!”

“Too true, but still I must go,” Hermione insisted, walking over to her mother’s chair and extending her hands out.

Minerva took the offered assistance, and let Hermione help pull her to her feet. Wrapping her tightly in her embrace, the old witch whispered.

“As always, it is good to spend time with you.”

“Same,” Hermione muttered, still holding tight to the woman. After a long time, she pulled back, kissed Minerva on the cheek, and looked hard at the older witch. “I love you very much, mum. Thank you for everything.”

Minerva briefly looked worried. “Of course my dear. I love you too. Is everything alright?”

Wiping gently at the corner of her eye, Hermione just chuckled softly and said, “Of course! Just this year bringing up a lot of memories and emotions. That’s it.”

Reluctantly, Hermione let go.

“I’ll see you at the sorting, alright mum?” Hermione assured her, walking to the door.

“Of course, see you then my dear,” Minerva answered, watching her daughter’s back suspiciously. She couldn’t help but feel that something just wasn’t right. 

——————————

**December 24, 1995**

Severus sat in the far corner of the grand Malfoy ballroom as a flurry of activity bustled around him, clasping an untouched tumbler of whiskey, and appearing bored with the proceedings. He’d been summoned earlier in the night to attend the Dark Lord’s “Christmas Party”, though it was well known the mad wizard detested the muggle holiday. In the past though, Voldemort had been well known for providing his followers with a lavish Christmas present of sorts. 

The ballroom was elegantly decorated for the festivities and there were several tables laden with every imaginable holiday food, constantly replenished by the Malfoy kitchen elves. The extensive and extravagant contents of the cellars were on displays everywhere as the alcohol flowed heavily on this night. 

However, the real gift from their Lord had been the two dozen or so muggles that had been captured and delivered for entertainment. A large cage stood in the middle of the room, where they huddled together. Every once in a while, a new toy would be seperated from the group and removed from the cage, as several Death Eaters gathered around to play. The blazing red light of the cruciatus curse could be seen frequently, followed shortly by the screams of pain from the victim, and laughter from the gathered witches and wizards in black. Occasionally, a family member in the cage would beg for mercy, which only increased the laughter.

For those not occupied with the torture, a wide variety of whores had been purchased and charmed to ignore the torture. They roamed around the massive hall, lavishing attention on the various invitees. Snape could see many of his young snakes sprawled out on cushions throughout the room, enjoying the attentions of the brazenly willing women, while their fathers acted similarly in a different part of the room, regardless of their marriage status. He had to admit that the Dark Lord’s tactics for luring in new members to his cause had not changed or become less effective over the years.

Several times, scantily clad women had tried to approach him, but one of his signature dark looks was more than enough to send them scampering in the opposite direction. His hand trembled occasionally, and he longed to bring the rim of the glass to his lips and take a long sip. He wished to feel the burn of the liquid as it slid down his throat and the heavy, warm and carefree feeling it could invoke if he drank enough. Subtly, he shifted his fingers along the edge of the glass, vanishing the contents within, and setting the empty on the table beside him, removing the temptation.

It wasn’t long after that though, that Lucius approached, carrying two glasses, one of which he pushed into the empty hands of the dark wizard. The blond, settled himself elegantly in an empty chair next to Snape.

“Enjoying the party?” Lucius asked.

“Not as much as your son it would seem,” Severus quipped, arching an eyebrow at the Malfoy heir, entertaining a pair of hookers, not far from where they sat.

“Nothing wrong with enjoying himself. At least he has good tastes despite their unfortunately being muggles,” Lucius insisted, his silvery eyes sliding down the bodies of the two beautiful women. “Besides, they won’t live through the night.”

Another woman sauntered in their direction, before taking in Snape’s black glare, and changing her mind, hurrying off in the opposite direction.

“You know, you could loosen up and have some fun too you know,” the senior Malfoy insisted.

Severus glared at him before insisting, “I am loyal to my wife. Just as you are loyal to Narcissa. Though you might look your fill, but we both know you’d never stray, old friend.”

“This is true,” Lucius conceded. “But my lovely wife is still alive. It’s been years since she died. When do you intend to quit mourning and resume your life?”

“She was taken from me, Lucius,” Severus snarled. “She didn’t just die, she was murdered and ripped from my life.”

Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself, before continuing, “Besides, we both had the good fortune to marry for love. Don’t act like your wife’s death wouldn’t affect you just as strongly.”

All Lucius could do was nod in acknowledgement. They sat together in silence for a few moments longer, before Malfoy stood and left the younger wizard to his brooding and dark mood. Across the hall, Severus could see the sickening, reptilian form of one of his masters, sitting upon the large throne, his wand raised and focused on the muggle writhing on the floor before him, as he cackled madly. Snape couldn’t help but remember another Christmas, from many years past.

——————————

**December 25, 1978**

The McGonagall house was eerily quiet in the early hours of Christmas morning, which was in stark contrast to the festivities that had taken place earlier in the evening. The members of the Order of the Phoenix had gathered together to celebrate the Christmas holidays as a family. The alcohol had flowed, as had many cheers for life, love and good fortune despite the dark times. Congratulations had been offered, as the Potter’s and the Longbottom’s used this gathering to announce that they were expecting their families to grow in the coming summer, since magical pregnancies were far more obvious early on.

Now however, the cheer had died down and only a handful of Order members remained as the clock chimed out, alerting the occupants that it was now three in the morning. Hermione sat anxiously between Lily and Alice, the two expecting, Gryffindor mother’s trying to calm and reassure their anxious friend. Minerva hovered near her daughter, occasionally pacing the length of the room and back as the time passed. 

Moody and Frank Longbottom had been called into the Auror’s offices to help supplement the existing staff, as there had been an overwhelming number of reports of magical attacks on muggle communities. James and Sirius paced back and forth in front of the fireplace, feeling helpless and irritable. The pair had decided to wait on starting Auror training in order to devote their full attention to the war efforts, and now felt helpless as their friend’s were off fighting the battles.

Dumbledore simply sat in a large comfy chair by the fire, occasionally plucking a lemon drop from his robe pocket, peeling off the wrapper, and popping the sweet into his mouth. The old wizard remained calm and somewhat oddly distracted as they waited. He was the only one not practically climbing the walls in agitation.

Hermione was a nervous wreck, as she sat, flanked by friends, while her knee bounced uncontrollably and she chewed her fingernails down to the nubs. Severus had been summoned hours earlier in the night, his dark mark flaring to life and nearly dropping him to his knees. With silent determination, her wizard had summoned his Death Eater robes and mask, kissed her soundly on the lips, like it might be the last time, and strode out the door, into the night. Hermione had jumped only moments later when she heard the crack of appreciation, as he disappeared at the edge of the wards. Now, all she could do is wait for his return.

At roughly half past the hour, the crack of apparition outside the house caused almost everyone to start and stare at the door expectantly. Moments later, Severus stumbled through the door, his dark robes sliced open in several places, clung to his form and heavy with blood, based on the metallic stench that followed him into the room. Hermione jumped up and rushed to his side the quickest, almost snarling at the young men to back off, as she shouldered her husband’s weight, despite her smaller stature. She aided him to the nearest couch and laid him down, quickly starting to strip his robes away to examine the damage.

“Severus, your memories,” Albus spoke, his voice demanding in stark contrast to his previous demeanor.

“Albus, he’s badly wounded,” Minerva started to object.

“It can wait,” Hermione insisted.

“I’m afraid that you know that it cannot, Mrs Snape,” Dumbledore replied.

Before his wife could turn her wrath on their leader, Severus spoke up, his voice faint and horse, “It’s alright love. He’s right. The memories are most useful when they are fresh.”

He struggled to reach into his robes and extract his wand, his arm obviously bothering him, though he clamped his jaw shut and swallowed his cries of pain. Hermione gently laid her hand on his cheek, turning him softly, to face her. Wand in hand, she locked eyes with him, waiting briefly for him to answer her silent question with a small nod. Pressing her wand to his temples gently, she reached forth with her magic, focusing on extracting the memories that he pushed to the forefront of his mind for her. Once the silvery strand detached from Severus’ head, she turned and quickly deposited the memory in the waiting vial Albus held out for her.

“Now go,” Hermione insisted, “I have to take care of these wounds.”

Dumbledore ignored the hostile tone, knowing well that he could only push the young witch so far, and that smaller slights would have to be swallowed to keep the powerful woman on his side.

“Minerva, your pensive please.”

Distractedly, she flicked her wand at a cabinet in the far corner of the room, before returning to help Hermione. Minerva summoned a wide range of healing potions and supplies, while her daughter worked magic to start healing and closing the wounds on Severus’ body. The other two witches waited nearby in case they were needed, but out of the way.

Dumbledore crossed to the cabinet, depositing the contents of the vial into the silvery liquid within the basin.

“We’re coming with,” Sirius declared.

James stood at his shoulder, both sporting a look mixing their feelings of determination and helplessness. Albus sighed, but just waved them over to the edge of the basin.

“Silence is required from both of you. Watch closely and observe all the details. Even the smallest action might affect how we approach this conflict,” Dumbledore instructed.

The young men nodded briefly, before following Dumbledore’s lead, and lowering their faces into the swirling memory.

——————————

Severus popped back into place at the gates to the Malfoy Manor. The house was brightly lit and the enjoyment of the yearly holiday party could be heard floating out of the open windows to the ears of the dark occupants of the snowy lawn. Several others stood in dark cloaks, while more appeared as they answered the summons.

“Our Lord instructs us to enjoy ourselves at the expense of the muggles this evening,” Lucius insisted when it seemed like most of the group had arrived. “Half of you will be going with Yaxley, the other half with me. Portkeys leave in moments.”

Another dark robed wizard, stepped forward, producing a scrap of fabric. Several Death Eaters detached themselves from the group and stepped up to grab a hold of a section. Lucius likewise produced a single poinsettia. Snape rolled his eyes, but stepped forward and pressed a single finger to one of the brilliant red petals. Moments later, the two groups spun away into the night, leaving the jovial sounds of the party behind.

Snape landed gracefully in the dark street next to Lucius, with a half dozen of their ‘brother’ beside them. Immediately, most of the group surged forward, wands drawn and ready to wreak havoc on the unknown muggle town. Lights still lit many of the windows, but the cold, snowy night had already driven everyone inside. Within moments, spell light could be seen, several fires erupted, and the screaming started, as the Death Eaters found their prey. Lucius strode forward regally, his wand targeting the first few brave muggles that had emerged from their houses to see what was happening.

Severus started moving, his dark wand flicking away. Balls of fire sped through the night, engulfing cars parked on the street. Great explosions shattered the windows of the darkened homes he passed, the spells shot into ground floor walls. Causing as much noise and flash as he could, Severus moved through the town, following the others. 

A blasting spell cracked open a large hole in the wall of a burning building, the dark wizard ignoring the family that fled from the home. He shot another massive fireball at a car across the street, causing it to explode. Pieces of fiery shrapnel littered the sidewall, where two other Death Eaters stood, a muggle man writhing under the direction of their wands. Cries of annoyance rose from the pair.

“Fuck you!”

“Watch where you’re aiming!”

Neither guessing that they had been the target of the attack, just assuming that one of their fellows had gotten a little trigger happy. Severus moved on, wanting to do more hard to the vile men, but knowing he couldn’t blow his cover.

Moments later, another dark cloaked figure reached out and grabbed his arm. Snape’s wand was pressed into the man’s throat in an instant.

“Merlin, Snape! It’s just me,” a voice he identified as Rowle, an old school mate, spoke. “Come on, this house is full of ‘em. Bursting with a filthy muggle family.”

Severus shook off the hand, but had to follow the other man into the nearest house. The door was off its hinges as the strode across the threshold. Screams of pain could be heard, and moments later, they turned a corner into a large family room. A robed figure cackled evilly as his wand brought pain upon an older male. A second had dragged a middle aged woman into the corner of the room. A brief glance showed that she had been knocked unconscious by her attacker, who had already started to thrust into her limp body.

Lucius stood in the middle, watching with a detached air, as his charges had their fun. Another six people were magically bound in the center of the room, at the blond’s feet, mostly adults, but with two young children.

“Go ahead, take your pick, Snape,” Rowle insisted.

Knowing the young wizard had a taste for younger girls, Severus swallowed the little bit of sickness that had risen in the back of his throat and raised his wand. The young girl floated away from the group. A woman screamed out a name, begging hysterically for him to stop, while a man thrashed violently against the binds. Snape ignored them, and Rowle’s soft curses, dropping the girl roughly near the corner of the room. 

Steeling himself, Severus cast, the red light emerging from the tip of his wand and striking the sobbing girl in the chest. She writhed on the floor and screamed. He grit his teeth, knowing that she was probably no older than eight years old, but that he couldn’t kill her too quickly. Trying to appear bored, he yawned behind his mask, before canceling the spell. The woman he assumed was the mother continued to scream. The man had managed to struggle to his feet, apparently getting ready to launch his bound form at the black clad man. Severus turned his wand and uttered the words, the sickly green light dropping the man in his tracks.

“Daddy! No! Daddy, get up,” the little girl screamed while the woman sobbed.

Around him, the others laughed. Unable to stomach anymore, Severus quickly spoke the words twice more. The little girl slumped against the ground only moments before the woman’s screaming stopped suddenly.

“Hey, quit spoiling the fun,” the wizard, who had finished up with the unconscious woman, growled.

“I detest the hysterics,” Snape insisted in a low snarl.

Lucius chuckled softly. “Quite right. Sometimes the screams enhance the experience, and others, they grate on my nerves. Besides, we should be wrapping this up. Our Lord is expecting us back soon.

“Severus, clean this up, then head back. You three, go round up the others. Leave no witnesses. It’s time we left this miserable little town,” Mafoy insistes, leading the other two Death Eaters out of the house.

Sighing heavily, Snape tapped into his magical energy. He had to acknowledge his wife’s argument from many years before, three killing curses had drained him quite a bit, both magically and emotionally. Taking stock of the room, he noticed that another one of the six was obviously dead in the corner, a younger woman, very bloody with her clothes torn and her neck obviously snapped. Snape had saved the youngest girl from other horrors, but Rowle had obviously had his fun. Quickly, he flicked his wrist as the unconscious woman, a long, deep slice appearing across her throat, her life quickly draining.

The older man groaned weakly, barely still alive following several rounds of the cruciatus. That left a young boy and an older woman bound in the middle of the room. If he’d had the magical reserves left, he would have stunned them first, but instead he had to simply use the slicing hex. His energy flagged and he felt briefly dizzy as he focused to make sure the cuts were quick and deep, so they would bleed out quickly and it would be over fast. Severus steadied himself against the wall briefly, fighting back the spinning of the room and the urge to be sick. When the wave passed, he stood straight and apparated back to the manor.

Instead of gathering in the snow, he approached the door, was invited into the home, and was quickly led to the main ballroom by a heavily bandaged elf. His robes were heavy with blood, but he left them dirty, even though he felt her stood out amongst the older Purebloods and their fine clothes. However, their Lord applauded as each member of the raiding parties had entered the hall, soaked in the blood of muggles, and the various attendee’s followed Voldemort’s lead. 

A glass of wine was pressed into his hands, as he was led in the direction of the buffet style tables. Severus quickly downed the wine, feeling slightly better as he rinsed the remaining traces of sickness and the metallic taint of blood from his mouth. However, he avoided the food, his stomach turning slightly at the meet sight of it. Snatching a tumbler of whiskey out of the air, he quickly downed it. His head was swimming slightly from the alcohol, but he felt steadier, and he turned to mingle with the party goers, weaving amongst the crowd and listening to several conversations at once.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he’d had several more drinks, when he heard his name being called out among the crowd. His blood ran cold as the calm, demanding tone of Tom Riddle.

“Yes, my lord,” Severus inquired as he approached, bowing low to the ground in front of the man.

“How goes the brewing project?” Riddle asked, his tone conversational, alerting the crowd that they should go back to their own conversations.

Bellatrix hung on the man’s arm, draping herself across him like yet another expensive robe, as she sneered at Snape. The others in the immediate area had started back the low buzz of conversation, but it was obvious that everyone was tracking the conversation.

“Slowly, unfortunately, my lord,” Severus admitted. “Several of the adjusted ingredients had a violent reaction to the base of the potion. I’ve had to start again. My current calculations are promising however.”

“Unfortunately for you, Severus, this is not a task for which I have an abundance of time or patience for,” Riddle purred, his tone deadly.

The white, bone wand was drawn in a flash and the spell cast before Severus could even register what had happened. His body spasmed as the red light flashed across his vision. Pain lanced through him, his limbs flailing wildly, while his body also tried to stiffen and curl into a ball to escape. Moments later the spell ended, but the relief was short lived, as several slicing hexes opened deep wounds upon his body. Bellatrix moaned and squeaked in excitement as blood bubbled to the surface of each cut.

Obviously bored with him, Riddle approached, and with a heavy boot, turned Snape’s body until he could look him in the eyes.

“I am not a patient man Severus. No more delays,” Riddle insisted.

“Yes, my lord,” Severus replied.

Waving his hand dismissively, Lord Voldemort wiped his boot on the pooled fabric of Snape’s robe, before turning away. As he disappeared back into the crowd, he announced, “Have your fun, Bella, but he is to remain alive and able. He is still useful to me.”

The next thing Severus knew for a while was pain. He must have blacked out at some point, because he sputtered awake in the Malfoy entry way a while later, after an elf upended a bucket of water over his head.

“Get yourself home, Severus,” Lucius Malfoy insisted from above him. “I’d avoid displeasing our lord again if I was you.”

The last comment had been thrown over his shoulder, as Lucius had rejoined the party, in search of his wife.

Severus stood on shaky feet and stumbled out the door. On the lawn of the manor, he swayed on his feet, before apparting home.

——————————

“That sick, slimy snake,” Sirius swore as he emerged from the pensieve.

The reckless boy’s wand was out as he strode across the room, where Snape was still laid out on the couch. James was right behind him, looking somewhat green and unsteady. 

Before they could get near the wounded young man however, a small witch with ferocity in her eyes and sparks of magic in her wild brown hair, but herself in their path.

“What do you think you’re doing, Sirius Black?” Hermione snarled.

“That sick bastard killed people! He tortured a little girl, and you’re going to protect him?” Black shouted. 

“They were defenseless you gutless coward,” James sneered.

Lily and Alice turned pale, collapsing into seated positions on the floor. Minerva stood her ground beside Hermione, while Dumbledore remained by the pensieve, obviously lost in his thoughts.

“Step back and lower your wand Black, or you’ll regret it,” Hermione insisted.

“How can you defend this monster?” James questioned hotly.

“Simply because he is not a monster,” she insisted.

“We saw it with our own eyes! He murdered people! He cast two of the three unforgivables! He’s on their side! Torturing and killing muggles,” Black asserted.

“Because you volunteered him for the job you worthless dog,” Hermione growled.

Both Sirius’ and James’ faces drained on color and their wands dropped slightly, but they stood their ground.

“Do you think you could do it? Huh, Black? How about you Potter? Could you sacrifice your bloody moral superiority? He does these things, not because he enjoys them like those sick bastards, but to maintain his cover, you thick idiots. This is the role in this war you both insisted that he take on. Did you think it was going to be easy to infiltrate Voldemort’s army? That he could simply walk in and ask for all his deep, dark secrets and walk out? It makes him sick to maintain his cover, and still, he returns like this more often than not,” she spat at them, wand still very much at the ready to protect her husband.

Both wands dropped completely to their owner’s sides at that and the boys looked like they were going to throw up. 

“Well said, Mrs Snape. His position in the Death Eater ranks is a precarious one and maintaining his cover is of the utmost importance. Sacrifices have to be made for the greater good,” Dumbledore announced, startling the group with his sudden entrance into the discussion.

“But the girl,” James stuttered. “She was only a kid.”

Hermione was poised to retaliate, when another addressed the gathered.

“Rowle has a taste for young girls. The younger the better. Would you rather I let a child rapist have at her?” Severus rasped, his voice low, but his black eyes hard and unforgiving as he met the gaze of each of the Marauders.

“This is some, but not nearly all of the information I provide. Information on the other Death Eaters, their habits, wearabouts, and their particular preferences - whether it’s torture like Yaxley and Bellatrix, young girls for Rowle, or that Greyback has a strong drive to turn, maul, and fuck children, mostly boys like your friend, but he’s not too terribly picky. Remus is lucky he just ended up with his so-called ‘furry problem’ and some scars,” Severus growled, before devolving into a coughing fit.

“Enough,” Hermione insisted to the others before turning to her husband. “Easy there love. Your voice is really raw and your body is in rough shape, you need to rest.”

“Your lovely wife is correct, Severus. We shall get out of your hair. However, I need you to consider how to keep stalling Tom. We need to know why he is having you brew the Potion of Despair and why the specific adjustments he has requested. It would be best if we knew how to foil his plan before it is set into motion. That is quite a dangerous potion,” Albus said gravely.

“If I stall him any longer or come up with more excuses, it would likely cost me my life, Albus,” Severus acknowledged.

“I understand, my boy,” Dumbledore insisted, patting the pale hand. “I’m sure you’ll get it figured out.”

Turning to the other occupants in the room, “I believe it’s time we let them get some rest.”

Forestalling protests, the older wizard, ushered the other occupants out of the house, sending them all back to their own homes. Minerva watched her daughter and son-in-law sadly for a moment, before retiring to her room for what was left of the night.

“Are you alright?” Hermione asked softly, knowing the answer already.

He laid there quietly for a bit, before finally speaking.

“No, I’m not,” he admitted, something he would only admit to her and her alone.

He felt the pulse of her magic around him as she widened the couch into a proper sized bed for the two of them, before she crawled in next to him. The comfort of her body beside him, allowed him to drift into an uneasy sleep.

  
  
  



	23. Mysteries

**May 15, 1996**

Severus had allowed his weakness for his witch to justify his actions for too long. When they had returned from the winter break and started classes up again in the new year, he had sent a note to Hermione through Minerva that they would continue their extra lessons. He convinced himself that it was because she needed these skills to protect herself in the dangerous world they lived in, but in reality, he just couldn’t bear to stop spending extra time with her.

Despite the punishments she had received and the cruel rumors that had spread through the school, Hermione had been enthusiastic about continuing their time together. However, the ease that had developed between them during these sessions had disappeared. Severus had resorted back to his formal teaching persona and the young witch was noticeably less friendly with him in general. He assumed she’d come to her senses over the break, and that worked just fine, since he had to maintain more of a student and teacher relationship with the young witch.

However, things at Hogwarts were just getting more and more dangerous. Dumbledore was on his last leg and doing little to counter the negative effect of Umbridge’s iron rule over the school. Hermione had been caught and punished on at least three separate occasions, while attempting to return to her dorm after their lessons. Each time she’d insisted that she could handle the punishments and that it was worth it, the value of their dueling and fighting more important as they stood on the edge of all out war with Voldemort’s followers, than a few scars. But once again, things were changing and adjusting rapidly.

The knock on the door, brought Severus out of his musings. He stood from his place in the chair by the fire and opened the door. Hermione entered the room quickly, having learned how dangerous the hallways could be. Turning about the room, she noticed that it was only occupied by Professor Snape and herself.

“Where is Professor McGonagall?” Hermione asked, curious as it was the older Gryffindor woman’s office they stood in.

“She allowed me the use of her office for this meeting, since it is not safe for you to venture into the dungeons,” Severus replied. “Unfortunately Miss Granger, it is time we stopped our lessons …”

“But Professor, it’s important that I know how to defend myself …”

Snape held his hand up, signaling for her to stop her impassioned reply.

“You have learned to defend yourself, quite well in fact. While I agree the lessons are helpful to continue your understanding of how to adapt to an opponent, you are quite a capable fighter. For now however, it is too dangerous to continue. Professor Dumbledore’s position at the school becomes more precarious with each day. Soon punishments are likely to be more intense than detentions with that witch’s curses quill. So, until things settle down here, our lessons are on hold.”

Hermione ducked her head and nodded quietly, trying to hide her disappointment. Upon returning from winter break, she had tried to pull back from the easy friendship that had been developing, in an attempt to make her Professor more comfortable, but she found that she missed that closeness. It caused an intense ache in her chest. She felt the same way now, knowing she wouldn’t have time with him outside of classes for a while.

“Yes sir,” she replied, preparing to leave.

Before she opened the office door, he spoke again.

“And Miss Granger, I’d suggest convincing Potter to put an end to his little rebellion. You are all playing with fire, and know that the noose is tightening,” Snape warned her.

Hermione simply nodded in understanding, before departing, not even slightly shocked that the Potion’s Master knew of their defense club.

——————————

**June 20, 1996**

Severus snarled in irritation as she strode down the hallway to the source of his summons. He had told the girl to shut down their little rebellion. He had warned her that it was too dangerous to continue to meet in secret. But she hadn’t listened to him. They had continued their silly club and been caught, most of the student body interrogated. And now, based on the fact he had been urgently summoned to Umbridge’s office, they had gotten into more trouble.

The witch’s office door was open when he approached, so he simply pushed past the Slytherins in the doorway and entered.

“You requested my presence,” Severus inquired snidely, arching his eyebrow and effecting an air of annoyance.

“Yes, Severus,” she replied.

Snape repressed a shudder, the sickly sweet way she labored over the syllables of his name making him feel like he needed to file a sexual harassment complaint immediately.

“I require more Veritaserum immediately. These troublemakers broke into my office and I want to know who they were trying to contact through the floo and why.”

“Have you tried asking them?” Snape inquired innocently, as if he honestly thought it was worth a shot.

“Of course I asked them!” Umbridge yelled. “They lied directly to my face. I require the potion now.”

“Apologies Madam, but you used up my supply interrogating the student body. I have more brewing, but as I’m sure you’re aware, it takes a month to brew,” Severus replied with a small shrug, as if to say ‘sorry about your luck’.

“Fine,” Umbridge snarled. “I’ll have to get answers another way.”

The High Inquisitor drew her stubby little wand, pointing it at the group. She flicked the tip back and fourth between the three young women, as if unsure, before she cast.

“Crucio.”

The red light took Hermione in the stomach, causing the young brunette to fall out of the meaty grip of Vincent Crabbe, and collapse to the floor, screaming in pain. Severus grit his teeth and willed his expression to stay the same, showing boredom and distance from the events. Most of his snakes in the room giggled or laughed at the girl shrieking in pain. 

“Leave her alone,” Ron Weasley growled.

“No, Hermione,” Neville cried out, trying to fight off his attacker.

The other girls tried to fight back as well, but Potter stood still, pure hatred and rage in his eyes as he glared down at the Ministry witch, who stared right back, with an evil smile on her lips.

After what felt like hours to him, the squat, fat witch in dreadful pink canceled the spell.

“Any information you’d like to share with me, Mr. Potter? No? Well, then, I guess if you’re sure,” Umbridge insisted happily, turning her wand again, at the group.

This time Ginerva Weasley took the spell, writhing in the ground in pain, as she screamed her throat raw. Potter looked pained, watching his friends being tortured, but it only seemed to harden his resolve.

“Stop! I’ll tell you,” a voice choked horsley.

It was one Severus hadn’t expected to hear, and he turned his gaze on Hermione, as she struggled to push herself into a standing position. Umbridge canceled the spell, turning her attention on Hermione.

“Yes, Miss Granger?”

“Hermione!”

“No!”

“Don’t tell her anything!”

The group of Gryffindors and a Ravenclaw insisted strongly, all staring at the brunette witch in open shock and betrayal. Umbridge flicked her want to silence the group.

“We were calling Dumbledore,” Granger insisted.

Severus frowned in confusion briefly before schooling his expression, but he saw similar confused looks on Hermione’s cohorts.  _ Tricky witch _ , he thought wryly. 

“Continue,” Umbridge insisted.

“He’s had us building a weapon and we finished it. We were supposed to call and tell him when it was ready for use,” Hermione admitted, looking defeated, with tears tracking down her face.

“And where is this weapon,” Dolores squeaked, getting irritated with this game.

Hermione hesitated briefly, looking at her friends, before saying, “It’s in the forbidden forest.”

“Well then, you two are going to show me this weapon,” Umbridge said, pointing to Hermione and Harry. “Draco, keep the rest here.”

“Oh yes, Severus,” Umbridge said, turning towards him, as if she had forgotten he was there. “I have no further use of you. Go on.”

“Yes High Inquisitor,” Snape said, turning to go.

“He’s got Padfoot,” Harry yelled at the Potion Master. “He’s got Padfoot in the place where it’s hidden.”

Severus looked over his shoulder at the boy. He understood the message, but it still made no sense. Sirius was under strict orders not to leave the safe house, and Moody was supposed to be on watch that evening anyways. Dark eyes briefly flicked to Hermione, who he caught just in time to see her roll her eyes. Snape stifled the smirk that threatened to rise.

“What does he mean?” Umbridge screeched. “What does that mean?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what the boy is talking about,” Snape sneered, before turning to stride from the room, his mind already going through the list of calls he needed to place.

His last thought though, as he left Hermione in that twisted witch’s hands, was that if Potter got her into trouble, he was going to rip the boy apart.

——————————

“Fucking Harry Bloody Potter and his stupid ideas,” Hermione vented to the wind as she clutched the skeletal frame of the dark mount she road.

Even though she didn’t understand why she could see the beasts after a discussion with Luna, she was glad that it was visible. She would have flat out refused the idea of flying on an invisible mount. Flying was difficult enough for Hermione to stomach in the first place. There was just something about not being in complete control of her mode of transportation that threw her for a loop.

The Thestral went into a deep dive suddenly, as they dipped down over the rooftops of London. Hermione leaned forward and clutched at the bony neck of the creature and clenched her eyes shut. Everything about the experience just felt wrong on many levels to the young witch, who couldn’t help but think that there had to be an easier way.

She jolted forward, bruising her sternum on the skeletal structure of the creature, as it touched down in an abandoned alleyway. Taking a second to steady herself, she was the last to slide off its back and onto the solid ground, only seconds before the herd leapt back into the sky, heading north. She glanced around at the others, several of them looking equally as stressed as she likely did, by the flight from Scotland.

It didn’t take long for the group of teenagers to make their way into the bowels of the Ministry of Magic. Several times, alarm bells went off in Hermione’s head, telling her that this was too easy and that they shouldn’t be able to just waltz into the Department of Mysteries, but after being shushed for the third time by the anxious group, she kept her thoughts to herself. 

The young witch was on full alert as they entered into the Hall of Prophecy, dangerously tall shelves filled to the brim were everywhere inside this warehouse, under the streets of London. Each of the glowing balls pulsed with an inner light, smoke shadows twisting and writhing within.

Harry rushed through the room recklessly, eyes scanning the numerical system at the end of each shelf, looking for the one from his vision. When he suddenly stopped, the entire group ran full on into his back, knocking all of them to a heap on the ground.

“He should be here,” Harry insisted. “This is where I saw him. Spread out and search.”

“Harry, there is no one else here,” Hermione insisted.

“He has to be here,” Harry growled. “I saw it. He’s in danger, we have to find him.”

Gripping his arm firmly, Hermione stared him down and insisted, “Padfoot is not here, Harry. He never was. Your vision was a lie.”

“Why?” the young wizard asked dejectedly.

Hermione was about to respond with her suspicions when Ron spoke up.

“Hey Harry, your names on this one, come look?”

The red head pointed to a glowing orb sitting on a shelf directly at eye level. The small level sitting beneath the orb showed his name in elegant script.

“But why?” Harry said, reaching out to pick up the sphere.

Hermione’s head lit up like a beacon, her mental landscape trying to warn and alert her, but the message was unclear.

“Don’t Harry,” Hermione tried to warn. “It’s a trap.”

Before the words had left her mouth however, the young wizard had plucked the prophecy from its stand.

Out of the darkness of the massive haul, the sound of clapping could be heard, followed by several sets of footsteps.

“Very astute Miss Granger, you really are quite remarkable,” Lucius Malfoy said as he stepped into the light. “Such a shame that you were too late, to keep your little friend from springing it.”

Several others chuckled in amusement as a full dozen figures in Death Eater robes stepped forward, several conjuring additional light. The small group of teenagers was pretty much surrounded.

“Crucio,” a crazed, feminine voice cackled, the red beam of light shooting forward and engulfing Neville, who collapsed to the floor, screaming in pain.

“Not yet, Bella,” Lucius hissed, roughly shoving the witch beside him. “We need the prophecy.”

“Why do you want this?” Harry asked, full of youthful defiance, as he clutched the orb tight in his grasp, cradling against his chest.

“It doesn’t matter why, Potter,” Lucius purred. “All that matters is that you’re going to hand it over, if you and you little friends want to get out of here alive.”

Harry looked around. Neville was back on his feet, but hung between Luna and Hermione, not quite able to stand on his own yet. Everyone else had wands out and leveled in varying directions. They were clearly outnumbered and mostly surrounded, but the hall was large enough that the dozen men and women couldn’t block every path. Potter briefly locked eyes with each member of his group, before turning back to Lucius.

“Expelliarmus,” Harry shouted, the force of the spell propelling Lucius back into the nearest shelf.

Hermione’s bombarda, cast at the same time, caused another section of shelf to explore in a hail of wood and glass shards. A large groan followed and all the living people in the room watched in horror as the massive and dangerously tall shelves began to sway and fall.

“Run,” Ron shouted, though everyone had already started moving. Harry, Ron, and Ginny took off down one hallway, as dislodged prophecies rained down upon them. Luna and Hermione helped Neville as they dashed back towards where they had entered the room, the shelves still shifting and groaning threateningly. 

“After them,” Bellatrix shouted from somewhere behind them, rallying the Death Eaters, who had been moments from fleeing themselves. “Recover the prophecy.”

Hermione, Luna, and Neville had just reached the door, as spell fire splashed against the walls and shelves around them. Luna slammed the door shut, and they found themselves back in the rotating room, the red X’s having faded from the doors. When the doors stopped spinning, the rushed forward and grabbed the first door, rushing through as they heard a door open behind them.

Three Death Eaters followed right behind them into the room. A slicing hex caught Hermione in the side, and she rolled away from the bulk of the spell, unfortunately separating her from the other two. She ducked a red streak of light, and started to fire back her own slicing hexes, aiming at the three, dark robed figures. Her focus honed in on herself and her opponents, as she moved around the room, flicking spells at enemies and dodging or shielding return fire. The circled the large display in the middle of the room, the ticking of the wide array of timekeeping devices setting the pace for the duel. Hermione managed to down one with a stunned, and saw a second taken down by a mean tripping jinx. 

In her brief distraction, the third opponent had managed to close in on Hermione. She managed a weak flipendo in his direction before his arms closed around her, but her magic surged as she cast. The Death Eater was thrown into the glass display, shattering it. Laying in a pile of destroyed devices and a weird glittering sand, the man started to scream as his torso started to age rapidly, large arms quickly losing muscle mass and hands growing into frail, deformed, claws. His head however had begun to deage, transforming to that of a child, then a baby. Rather quickly, the screaming stopped.

Hermione looked around and noticed a second open door, assuming that was where Luna and Neville had fled. She headed in that direction, giving the destruction at the center of the room wide berth. She was almost to the door when she stopped suddenly. There, on the floor in front of her, was an intact device. The golden hourglass with glittering sand inside looked to be the interior piece of a wrist watch, the face popped up and away from the display. Gently, she picked it up, studying the time piece, before gently pressing the hourglass back into the base of the watch, before pushing the face back into place, which locked with a small click.

The sounds of battle interrupted her inspection of the device, so she shoved it into her pocket and took off again. Hermione ran through several rooms, ducking in and out of doors, into rooms they had seen when first entering the Department of Mysteries, as well as new rooms. Twice she engaged with a single Death Eater and twice she was able to disable them before reinforcements arrived.

It was not long before she stumbled into the room with the archway in the center, where most of the fighting seemed to be going on. The rest of her group was present, though Ron was unconscious on the floor at Ginny’s feet and Neville looked quite bloody. The rest of the Death Eaters seemed to be present in the room, fighting mostly against the handful of Order members that had arrived at some point.

Hermione’s arrival was noticed, as two black clad figures turned in her direction. Quickly, she dodged the first streak of red, sending a blasting hex in response. Unable to recover from her bad positioning, she quickly sent a silencing spell at the other. She allowed herself to collapse to the ground as a red hex was sent right where she had been. However, she was unable to evade further, and the next spell from the silent wizard hit her square in the chest, the angrilly buzzing purple energy ripping through her body.

Her world narrowed to nothing but the pain she was feeling. She could feel the harsh, cold air stinging the wound as blood poured from her body and over her hands. Heat burned through her veins, making everything feel like it was on fire, while the cold of the outside made everything sizzle and hiss in opposition. Her vision was black, but at the very edges of her hearing, she could still make out the sounds of combat. The pain burned and ached, and ate away at her remaining energy. So, Hermione turned inward, she retreated into her mind, trying to escape the pain and the torment, trying to find a place to hide, a place that was quiet, dark, and cool. Briefly, she was successful at hiding away, before the pain came flooding back in, too intense to be ignored.

The darkness got more intense and oppressive, as the pain wracked her body. It pushed in from all sides, starting to suffocate her. She struggled against it, trying to take a breath, but unable to breathe air to fill her lungs. She felt heavy, like she was being pulled under, a panic rising in her chest as she realized what was happening. She struggled with every ounce of strength she had left. When all her energy was spent, she finally began to submit to the force, pulling her under. 

As she was just on the edge, a blinding bright light ripped through the darkness. Vivid colors flashed and rippled across her vision, surging forward with the force of a massive wave. The colors and lights danced around her, comforting and familiar, before Hermione fell into the darkness again.

  
  
  



	24. Breaking Down Doors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whooooo! Thanks to everyone reading, leaving kudos, and reviews! We hit 100 comments with last chapter and that has me stoked. It also feels like the perfect time for this chapter.
> 
> As always, please let me know what you think! I love the feedback!

**June - July 1996**

Magic surged and receded within her body like the tide. Sometimes it would burn so hot and bright it was painful and others so distant and weak that she couldn’t connect with it. Occasionally it was boosted by other sources. She could feel the differences in the other magics as they poured into her body, but she couldn’t identify whose magic it was. 

Logically, she assumed that one was Madam Pomfrey. It felt warm, comforting, and friendly, but also often overwhelming and smothering, much like the medi-witch. Another felt vaguely familiar and felt much like an emotional hug from a mother, safe and protected, the magical signature invoking shadowy memories. The third and last magical signature nagged at her the most. Everytime it boosted her own magical energies, she felt all encompassing love and devotion that would have brought tears to her eyes and a lump in her throat had she been conscious. It was safe, strong, and protective all rolled into one. A strong note of sadness and worry spread throughout. Her mind insisted that she should recognize the signature, but she kept drawing blanks. The most confusing of all, was that the magics felt distinctly masculine.

Hermione navigated her mental landscape, her memories telling her that her body had been gravely injured and needed to rest and heal. It still felt weird, for her mind to be active while her body lay in an unknown condition. She couldn’t tell if she was getting better or barely hanging on. The surges of outsider magic let her know she was still alive, but time had no meaning to her. For all she knew, years had passed, though she doubted that very strongly. 

So, instead of sitting and wallowing, she had decided to explore. It took a while, as she walked the castle in her mind from bottom to top, exploring every nook and cranny, memorizing the layout, so she might compare it to the real Hogwarts and see how accurate it was. Areas of the castle she had never been too were revealed to her then, and wondered how that worked. Eventually, she had made her way to the seventh floor corridor, walking along to where she knew the Room of Requirements resided. 

She gasped in horrified shock as she saw the destruction, that was the section of wall. It looked ten times worse, than when the Inquisitor Squad had forced their way into the room. The stones in the wall were all offset, crumbling down to form a large pile of rubble in front of the large wooden door that was now visible, but blocked. The wood had several large and long cracks, missing chunks of wood in some places, and scorched and scarred in others. It was as if some massive power had exploded from within.

Tentatively, she placed her hand against the damaged wood, leaning over the rubble. The door hummed and buzzed with magical energy, at one painful, but pleasant. Familiar but different. And she couldn’t be entirely sure, but some of the residual magic reminded her of the masculine magic that would aid her healing process and supplement her own. It wasn’t as strong or intense, but even in this mental scape, it almost smelled familiar, like old books, fresh parchment, and spearmint. She wanted to immerse herself in the scent and never come back out.

She had decided to leave the rubble be for a time, her mind feeling as weak as her body no doubt was. The idea of using mental energy to shift the rubble came easily in this format. She knew that she would need to wait to get stronger to do anything more than wander.

The pain broke through into her mind sometimes. Mostly, it manifested as physical pain, bringing forth memories of pain, that were her own, but also other, more horrible memories of someone she didn’t recognize. At other times,, it would bring walking nightmares, terrible monsters and witches and wizards that assaulted Hogwarts. Many seemed and felt familiar in some way, though she had no memory of every meeting them.

Soon after the pain though, would come the heavier pain potions, that fogged her mind. During these times, she felt like she was on the outside looking in, watching scenes play out. Scenes that she knew and remembered from her life. Fuzzy visions that mostly provided an array of feelings, with the details impossible to focus on.

And in the vast emptiness of time spread out before her, she worried. She worries about Harry, Ron, Neville, Ginny, and Luna, wondering if any of them had sustained equally bad or worse injuries. She worried about the members of the Order of the Phoenix that had arrived to help. She worried about Sirius and how he had been used to bait Harry. Worried about Severus, and how him getting the Order alerted to the danger would affect his cover. She worried the Death Eaters had gotten what they had gone there for. Worried that reinforcements hadn’t been in time and the Death Eaters had escaped. And worst of all, she worried that someone she had cared about had died.

Hermione knew that worrying didi her no good, but trapped in her mind with no idea when she might return to her body, she left the worries in. She let the times when her magic flagged and sputtered, like a flame about to die, send her into episodes of panicked worry, where all she could consider were the worst possibilities. It wasn’t logical, and she berated herself for the response each time it happened, yet it continued to happen.

Eventually however, the surging of her magic started to settle. The outsider magics continued to work to help stabilize her magical core. Little by little it began to settle, until there were almost the smallest of fluctuations instead of massive rolling waves that knocked her over. Her magic as a whole felt stronger, more sure of itself, more developed in a way, yet she still had a feeling of it being lesser in general. It was less than the monumental surge that had saved her life. Lesser than the peaks of the crests as it had rolled across her mind. She wasn’t quite sure where she stood in that regard, despite the new stability. Would it recede back to her previous strength when the crisis had passed? Was she destined to be more powerful and she had felt just a spark of it? Or had the trauma damaged her core, harnessing and locking away the true potential? The questions haunted her.

In an attempt to put her mind, literally, to anything else, she had started to turn her efforts towards the damaged hallway on the Seventh Floor in her mindscape. She felt like answers to questions she didn’t know to ask, had been locked away. Now, they were still hidden from her, but behind the damaged exterior, instead of an invisible door she couldn’t summon.

She bent her mind and returned strength to the tasks, though it was slow going at first. Little by little, she was able to move aside the smaller stones - her mind providing the strength, but her body moved the rubble much like she would have with physical strength. The larger pieces proved trickier. Hermione hadn’t really managed any real spell work within her mental frame. Asking for the things she wanted was one thing, converting mental into physical energy was another, but using magic was something she hadn’t run across in her studies. Her physical manifestation didn’t have a wand, so she had assumed no magic.

However, the pull of whatever was hidden away behind that door grew stronger the more she worked on it. The magical energies often shining brightly through the cracks, tendrils attempting to reach her, as if whatever it was, was desperate to escape. The knowledge both spurred her own and scared her.

Now, as everything she could clear away by hand was moved, she physically couldn’t take the next step. Several large stones blocked access to the door and the stones in the wall surrounding the portal were weak and unstable. She would need magic to move and stabilize the rest of the damage. The only problem was that she didn’t know how. She’d sat for hours in front of the wall, trying different ideas. She tried wandless magic first, then nonverbal wandless. When those both failed, she tried to use her hand to mimic the wand movements and wield the power from her fingertips. 

After that failure, she had retreated into memories. Within the library of Hogwarts, she scanned the memories of books she had read on the subject, but had no luck. Pulling at straws, she started on memories of every book from the restricted section, then charms, and transfiguration. She scoured previous arithmancy texts, looking for clues to an equation she could plug in to solve the problem. When all had failed, she simply looked at the mental portrayal of the library in frustration. It was an exact replica of its source. She could remember and mark every title on the shelves, but much to her annoyance, she hadn’t had enough time to read every title. Oh, she had tried, with the time turner, of course, but the Hogwarts Library was one of the biggest wizarding libraries, and she had barely made a dent. If the answer was out there, she knew it was in this room, it just hadn’t been in anything she had previously read.

Discouraged, she stalked back to her door in the Gryffindor tower. While in this state, she didn’t really sleep, but something about curling up in her bed made the disappointment, moppyness, and anxiety she had all felt in turn, trapped in her mind, feel even the slightest bit better to manage.

It wasn’t until some time later, when the masculine power washed over her mind, that she realized something. Magic had been working within her mental landscape all along. It came from her magical core, which incorporated both her physical body and her mind. The answer was right in front of her, she just had to figure out how to work it.

Returning to the doorway, she sat on the stones in front of it while she considered the implications. Magic worked in this realm, she just had to figure out how to tap into it. She first tried to draw from her core, much like she would when casting a spell, but instead of using incantations, wand movements, or nonverba cues, she simply tried to call it forth. She felt the power within herself, but had no success calling upon it from the representation of her physical body. Frustrated, she laid back on her palms on the stone. The question of how else she could summon the magic bouncing around her mind. 

She sat silent and still for a long time, her mind working in over time, trying to puzzle it out. After a time, she just naturally ran out of avenues of thoughts to explore and her mind started to go blank. It was then that she started to feel it. The gentle buzzing, subtle burning in her fingertips, where the connected to the stones on the floor of the corridor. She recalled the magic she had felt touching the wood of the broken door before her and almost laughed at her foolishness.

Hogwarts itself was believed to be a semi-sentient being, as well as a major fount of magic. It made all the sense in the world that her magic, within the landscape that had modeled itself off of the castle, would run through the very veins of the castle. Tentatively, she closed her eyes and reached out to her magical core. Instead of trying to direct it this time, she just allowed herself to become submerged in it. The magic flowed through her mind, and thus, the foundations of Hogwarts. She could feel the stone heating up beneath her fingers, and a feeling of rightness and approval washed over here. Focusing on that feeling, she asked the castle in her mind for help. She could feel her magic start to spread outward and opened her eyes. Amazed, she watched as the larger stones crumbled into a fine dust that formed into new stones in the wall, stabilizing the doorway, ceiling, and corridor once again. Then the door itself started to mend, the long, wide cracks growing smaller, and the scorch marks receding.

The magic stopped shortly after, the Castle feeling it’s job was done. The section of wall and large wooden door didn’t look as good as new. There were spots where the new stones didn’t fit just right or weren’t as smooth as their neighbours and the door still had small cracks, disfiguring marks, and a single long, but unimpressive scorch mark. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t new. But it was repaired. It was safe and stable. It would last and be stronger for the damage, but never exactly the same.

Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that Castle was making a statement about her physical body and the damage the curse she had received might have done. However, there was little she could do about it then. At that moment, the pull from the door was monumental. All the feelings and thoughts and particle memories that had led her to this previously blank space was screaming at her to push forward. Open the door, her mind supplied. Let it out!

Let what out? She thought briefly, momentarily frozen in fear at the thought that it might be a mistake. What if it was a trap? Part of the curse?

She hesitated, hand hovering over the door handle. Then the safe, loving, familiar magic that she recognized flared briefly. It lovingly reached out and caressed her magic, settled her thoughts. Determined, Hermione placed her hand on the handle and turned.

Power, warmth, and blinding light pushed the door open as the latch was released. Shielding her eyes the best she could, Hermione backed up a couple of steps, squinting to try and make out anything on the other side of the door. The power pulsed against an invisible barrier once, before breaking through and rushing over Hermione’s mental form. It swept through her being, at the same time that it poured itself into every surface of the Castle itself, Hogwarts shining and pulsing with a new light and energy. 

Hermione was immediately overwhelmed as everything went completely and blindingly white. Power rushed through her. Then came the emotions, a whole lifetime of different emotions assaulting her senses all at once. It was too much, she felt like she was going to explode. Then the calming magical presence was felt, and everything went black. 

——————————

**July 29, 1996**

Hermione grimaced in pain as the sudden intrusion. Where all had previously been black, the light of a well lit room pressed uncomfortably against her eyelids. Her eyes felt dry, sore and gritty as she worked to crack one and then the other slightly. Tears immediately leaked down her face of their own accord, but as the moisture flowed, she was able to open her eyes a little wider.

It was then that she noticed the presence of a hand holding gently onto her hands, and the form of a person leaning over her. She smelt old books, fresh parchment, and spearmint and managed to crack her dried lips into a smile.

As her eyes opened wider, she looked up into familiar, endless black eyes, watching her intently, but with intense concern and love shining.

Her throat ached and she knew her voice would be harsh with disuse, but she couldn’t help it. She smiled at him and squeezed his hands in her own with the strength she could muster.

“Severus,” she sighed softly.


	25. He Almost Lost Her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the love! I know everyone’s been waiting on the edge of their seat for this change in the story. 
> 
> Be prepared, here is the other side of Hermione’s dreadful injuries.

**June 20, 1996**

Severus paced back and forth by the large fireplace in the Hospital Wing. He’d sent word to Albus hours ago that Potter had somehow been convinced that his godfather was in danger. The older wizard insisted that he would handle it, but that Severus had to stay put at Hogwarts. It hadn’t been long after that, that Hagrid had come bursting into the Castle, alerting them that part of the thestral herd had left the grounds. It had seemed a safe assumption that Potter’s little gang had headed for the Ministry, and where Harry went so did Hermione. The dark wizard snarled in frustration, pissed that every time he turned around, James’ little clone kept getting his wife into trouble. 

The most frustrating part though, was that for the most part, they were just kids. If they had indeed followed the obvious trap and gone to the Ministry of Magic, there was going to be a group of fully trained, grown, and ruthless witches and wizards waiting for them. Trained killers there to accomplish a mission, in which failure meant torture. It was why he paced in the infirmary, having already brought up several cases of various healing potions to help counter in any number of dark curses. Someone was going to get hurt today, he could feel it in his gut. He just hoped the children involved made it through alright. 

Less than thirty minutes later, the floo flared to life, the bright green flames casting a sickening glow on the flame-lit room, the sun having set hours before. Remus stumbled through, carrying a half-conscious Ronald Weasley.

“Pick a bed Mr. Lupin, quickly,” Poppy insisted, rushing over to help settle the boy. “What are we dealing with?”

“Some kind of weird experiment they’re running down there. He kept muttering about ‘brains’ and ‘tentacles’ and the suction marks do look like some kind of giant octopus,” Remus explained hastily.

The red-head muttered wildly, strings of words that didn’t make sense together, his eyes unfocused. His hands started tearing at his clothing and clawing at his throat once he had been settled. Poppy quickly withdrew her wand, casting a spell to sedate the boy, before running a couple scans.

“Severus, I need you to check on his mind. Aside from the bruising, there doesn’t seem to be anything physical.”

Severus nodded, but grabbed onto Lupin’s arm before the man could rush back through the floo.

“Hermione?”

“I don’t know yet. Things are bad though,” the werewolf said. His eyes showing his concern, before promising, “I’ll find her.”

Snape let go and turned towards Weasley while the floo whisked Remus back to the Ministry. Steeling himself, Severus immobilized the boy and then revived him. Wild blue eyes locked on to black. Snape dove into the boy’s mind with the contact.

The thoughts were scattered and frantic, rushing around and by him in a jumbled mess. Images of burning crosses on spinning doors and glass orbs raining and smashing against the ground. Forward most however was the clear image of a large tank, with floating brains that had grown octopus-like arms, then of the brains wrapping themselves tightly around the boy. Digging deeper, he found images of dark robed figures surrounding the boy, spells running what looked like diagnostics along with several other scans Snape couldn’t identify. The point of view however, was what was off, it was from the tank looking out.

Severus withdrew, his brow furrowed in concern, as he watched the boy for a moment, before crossing the room to a box and withdrawing a vial of dreamless sleep. Quickly he coaxed the liquid down the child’s throat. Poppy stepped clear of another bed and looked at him expectantly.

“Looks like mostly panic and shock right now, though I’ll feel better once we are advised what he was up against. I’ve put some dreamless sleep in his for now. Whatever it was, likely absorbed some of the boy’s memories, and may have shared some of its own. We won’t know what we might need to obliviate without more knowledge and time,” Severus offered.

Poppy nodded, before turning back to the Weasley girl, who was propped up on a bed with several large cuts and bruises. The Lovegood girl was also in a bed, awake and alert. Tonks and an auror he didn’t recognize, were taking a statement from the girl. However, the other three of the group were still missing.

The floo flared again, and Kingsley walked through, carrying Longbottom, who was cut up pretty badly. The boy collapsed to the floor and started seizing the moment they cleared the flames. Severus summoned a vial to himself and rushed to the boy’s side. He turned Neville on his side, using his arm to buffer the boy’s head against the hard stone floor. When the jerky movements stopped, he coaxed the potion down Longbottom’s throat. The boy lay on the floor unconscious and twitching wildly for a moment before settling some.

“Get him to a bed,” Snape ordered harshly.

Leaving Kingsley to care for the child, he turned to survey the room again. He saw no sight of Hermione yet, which was likely a bad sign. If she could walk on her own or be carried through the floo, she would have likely been here already. Albus and the Order knew better than to take anyone to St Mungos, especially Hermione. It left the very real and terrifying possibility that she was gone.

Just as the terror had started to flood his body, the doors from the castle propper were flung open and several wizards rushed in, a body carried between them. Severus caught hints of wild brown hair as they hurried past him and deposited the body onto a bed. Without realizing it, he had collapsed to his knees where he stood, his voice aching to scream out his agony, but stuck in his chest.

Remus, who had been helping bring in the body, rushed to his side, and knelt beside him.

“Severus,” the werewolf whispered harshly. “She needs you. She’s alive, but gravely injured. You may be the only one that can save her. Get up. Save her.”

Lupin hauled Snape to his feet and dragged him to the bed, drawing a privacy curtain around them quickly. The stunned wizard just looked at her. Blood covered her entire upper body, a massive gash across her chest still oozing and bleeding, appearing to open and expand more with each second. He could see the bones of her sternum and several ribs through the exposed wound, as well as part of a lung, the pulsing of her heart, and sections of her bowel. She was unconscious, but her face was contorted in pain, blood smeared across her cheek, and her hair matted with it. Several other bruises, cuts, and long slices could be seen, but it was the gaping wound on her chest, growing and radiating with dark magic, infecting and weakening her body. His mind briefly wondered, how is she still alive at all, but she was.

“Severus, do something! Now! Or she’s gone,” Remus snarled, roughly shaking the man in his hands.

Suddenly, his occulemancy shields slammed into place and he started moving, his wand out and halfway through a dozen spells.

“Grab the crates. We need blood replenisher. Lots,” Snape growled.

While Remus disappeared, he read the results of his spellwork. They provided physical and magical diagnosis. She was severely drained of blood, the gaping wound that still bled and the lack of color in her skins being obvious signs. Her breathing was shallow and labored, one lung looking to have collapsed under the pressure of the blood filling up her chest. Blood also seemed to be pooling in her abdomen, several of her organs damaged by the spell. 

Another spell highlighted and detailed the path of the dark magic. Some spells would leave a trace, like a poison in the body, slowing attempts to heal. This spell however, was still active however, the dark magic continuing to eat away at the witch’s body, spreading and growing the curse, expanding the wound. Severus could see the edges of the wound continue to grow outward, the edges starting to wrap around, growing toward and around her left shoulder and right hip. The wound had practically ripped her in half, and would finish the job if he couldn’t stop it. It was lucky for Snape that he was familiar with the spell and it’s caster.

However, the most pressing, was Hermione’s magical energy. Her body was rapidly trying to heal itself, her magic trying to close the wound at places and stem the bleeding, but in the process of healing, it was bleeding her dry. If her magic ran out, her life would run out. The dark magic would quickly consume her and squash whatever fight she might have had left.

Remus reemerged, placing a crate on the nearby visitor chair.

“I need Minerva and Poppy, now,” Severus ground out.

He started pouring his magic, his will, his energy, and his love into his wife’s failing body. As her magic was bolstered, the wound stopped growing and the bleeding slowed, but with his energy devoted to supplementing her magic, Severus couldn’t do anything to counteract the dark magic or heal the wound. He barely noticed when Poppy rounded the curtain or a moment later when Remus returned with Minerva in tow.

Minerva realized immediately what he was doing and joined, adding her own strength to her daughter’s magic. Poppy quickly instructed Remus on a half a dozen potions to start administering to the wounded girl, before joining. The three powerful magic users struggled to keep Hermione alive.

After some time, the potion’s started to take effect, the color returning somewhat to the girl’s face, the edges of the wound ever so slowly starting to shrink, the blood flowing from the wound, slowing.

“Severus, we’ve got her. You need to heal the wound,” Poppy insisted.

He could still feel the medi-witch's power flowing into his wife and could feel Minerva’s fierce Gryffindor determination holding steady. Slowly, he withdrew his support, feeling drained and light-headed. Remus was quickly at his side, steadying him, so he began to work.

Severus cast spells over her body rapidly, targeting the healing powers of her body. He vanished the blood pooling within her body, putting pressure on her organs, then reinflated her lung. A diagnosis spell scoured each organ, one at a time, as he determined and fixed damage. Her lungs were fine, after being reinflated and while her heart was badly exposed and he could watch it beat inside her chest, it was uninjured. Several of her bones had been shattered, so he lined up the larger chunks, vanished the fragments, and lightly fused it, knowing that skelagrow would be needed later. Her liver was badly damaged, but he had been able to repair most of it. The spleen was destroyed. While she had been practically eviscerated, the damage to the stomach and intestines was quickly patched up as his spell scanned and allowed him to quickly seal damage.

The dark magic lingering on the surface of the wound was the most difficult. It kept the soft tissue and skin from healing, keeping the wound open and starting to poison and destroy muscle. Snape deposited another potion down her throat before starting a long chant, the effects of the potion enhancing his ability to disperse and eventually banish the dark magic from the wound. Time passed, rays of dawn light started to creep in through the windows. Minerva and Poppy kept bolstering Hermione’s magic, taking turns now that she was somewhat more stable, and Remus continued to feed potions, blood replenisher, sedatives, elixirs to supplement her magic, healing potions to help repair the muscle damage, and tonics to fight back against the dark magic.

Eventually, Severus collapsed to the floor, blacking out briefly. Remus caught him and knelt with him, waiting for the wizard to regain consciousness. After a few moments, black eyes flickered open. The wolf looked at him expectantly.

“The wound is clean of dark magic,” Severus whispered, though each in their small circle heard him. “Help me up. I need to close the wound.”

Minerva started to argue.

“Poppy or myself can do that, my boy. You don’t have the strength.”

“I will find it,” Severus insisted, as Remus helped him to his feet. “I’m familiar with the spell, so I understand better what it has been targeting, without excessive diagnostics. Besides, you and Poppy are equally exhausted. I’ll finish this.”

Remus held him steady, unwilling to let him go and stand on his own. The wolf quietly pushed energy and magic into his friend, giving him enough strength to keep going. Snape nodded briskly as he worked, his wand weaving a complex web of spells, knitting and repairing muscle, ligaments and tendons. The soft tissue started to close over her body, moving and stretching back into place. Next came the skin, as he mixed his wife’s healing chant with more familiar healing techniques to grow it back rapidly, the dark magic having consumed much of her original skin. 

When he was finished, the new skin was pink and raw, and despite his efforts, she would have a large, ropey scar that cut across her body from shoulder to hip. The edges of the puckered wound were still red and raw, weeping in places and trying to pull apart still. Poppy quickly acquired some of her muggle supplies, placing small adhesive strips to hold the wound together, as well as gauze and bandages to cover the still angry wound. Last, they bound her chest lightly in a thick, gauzy linen, to help keep the wound closed and clean.

Remus gently settled Severus in a chair next to the bed, before the Potion’s Master passed out again. Minerva also accepted a chair, sitting watch over her daughter. Poppy wearily returned to the main part of the infirmary, overseeing the efforts to heal the wounded while she had been occupied. Looking sadly, one last time, at his friend, pale and wounded on the bed, Remus left his friends to their vigil.

Severus let the tears flow once he was alone with just Hermione and Minerva. He gathered her small, fragile hand in his and pressed his forehead to it, and the stiff hospital sheets, as he sobbed, for the several points in time where he had almost lost her. He had felt her slipping away from him, despite her tremendous will, but the sheer strength and determination that he poured into her, had been what kept her from crossing over several times. He cried for her pain, he cried for his fears and the near loss, he cried in frustration, rage, and at the injustice of the world. Shortly later, when all the tears had fallen, he fell into an exhausted sleep at her side.

——————————

**June - July 1996**

It had taken three weeks and several magical interventions for the wound to fully close. The knotty scar was large, raised, and jagged. It was unlikely it would ever heal or reduce very much, but she was alive despite it.

Severus spent much of his time beside Hermione’s bed, watching her rest, reading, coming up with excuses for why he was there when she woke up, and deciding exactly how he was going to torture and kill Dolohov. During the first couple of days, he had run full diagnostics hourly to watch her progress, but as she continued to heal, he allowed himself to breathe a little easier and trust her body to alert him to issues. Still, he used his magic to check her readings several times a day.

The rest of the group of teenagers that had stormed the Ministry had all been released, each with mostly minor injuries comparatively. The students had gone home, so Severus had nowhere else to be. Poppy had slid a second bed right up next to Hermione’s for him, but for the most part, he stayed in the chair beside her, holding her hand, his fingers lingering on the pulse in her wrist.

They had continued to track her magic levels and found it continuing to fluctuate, which was odd, but not uncommon in trauma victims. Severus gave the lion’s share, but Minerva and Poppy continued to help supplement Hermione’s magic when it would drop.

The girl was kept on heavy sedatives and pain potions, but even then, the pain would seem to break through, and she’d writhe in pain. Severus was reluctant, but agreed to brew a stronger pain potion for those times. While potentially highly addictive, it was better than her ripping the wound open again.

It was well into July before they had decided to lighten the sedative potions. Her wound had closed and her magic had begun to stabilize again. It was time to see where they stood when she woke up. While Severus knew Dolohov’s spell was purely physical damage, he knew that there would likely be some issues with trauma from the event itself.

So, he waited beside her bed. He refused to listen to Albus’ arguments that he should leave her alone, now that survival was assured, so as not to blow his or her cover. Minerva had almost eviscerated the Headmaster, when the old coot had tried to get her on his side. Severus had come up with an acceptable lie, that he simply needed to monitor her potion needs, so it would take his death, or a summons to drag him from her bedside.

——————————

**July 29, 1996**

The shifting of the blankets and the disgruntled growl of irritation that had been his wife’s trademark after a long night of study and research, would have normally dragged him back in time to memories of the more pleasant ways in which he had associated the grumpy mood that followed. 

This time, however, was different. They had been lightening Hermione’s sedation now that her wounds were healing and staying healed. Severus sat with a book on dark curses in front of him (one he knew Dolohov had used to craft his spell), but was barely able to pay attention, as he jumped at the smallest sounds she made. The growl was a giveaway that she was awake and clearly disliked the sunny brightness of the wing. With a flick of his wand, Severus had drawn the curtains in her area.

The professor was still holding onto her hand and leaning in forward. She seemed to have noticed before bringing herself to open her eyes. At the feel of his hands, which displayed the markers of his job, but his particular scent seemed to please her. When her eyes finally fluttered open, she became entranced by the black as obsidian eyes that belonged to Severus Snape.

Chapped lips cracked and bled a little as she smiled widely and looked up at him, eyes filled with admiration.

“Severus,” she whispered softly, like a prayer.

Snape wanted to believe, he had wanted to dive in head first, but he couldn’t. Due to the severity of her injury, she hadn’t been stable enough for him to inspect the strength of the door keeping her memories held back. He had suspicions, but that was it.

“Miss Granger,” Severus acknowledged with a nod.

Hermione’s face at that moment showed pure confusion. Surely he could just tell that her barrier was done, and not have to play the part anymore with just her.

“Sev,” Hermione tried, reaching weak arms to take his face in her hands and pull him closer.

With his forehead pressed to her forehead, he kept his eyes tightly shut and he breathed in her scent. Fear kept him rooted in the spot, thinking that if anything, it was just damage that needed repair. That he could get a glimpse and a moment of his wife, that would quickly be ripped from him.

Gently nuzzling her nose against his, she whispered, “Open up for me Severus. I am home and I have missed you.”

At her words, he began to open. He slowly opened his eyes and really looked at her for the first time in a long time. She looked much the same at the day they were married. She was beautiful and radiant in ways that gorgeous young women grew into. The most telling was the look in her eyes, the look she reserved only for him, a look that told him that she considered herself the luckiest girl in the world, to be married to him. Then, he could see all the differences, the way she carried herself like a teacher and expert in her field, that changed her mannerisms, despite the limited ability to notice the changes. 

“Hermione,” he exclaimed, at a whisper, before leaning in and pressing his lips to hers.

The kiss was intense and aggressive, each one fighting for control and that feeling of complete connection despite being alone so long. Severus’ hands wandered the most innocent places of her body. His long, lean fingers winding themselves through her wild hair, tracing the shape of her jaw, nose, and eyes. He dragged them around her body, then tensing his fingertips, applied gentle pressure as they skated down her back. The moans she made in response to his kiss and his actions quickly turned into hidden grimaces of pain and he pulled away rapidly.

The shaking of the privacy curtain was all the warning they got before Minerva and Poppy inter the small space.

“Awake and alert. Doesn’t seem to be in too much pain right now. All good things,” Poppy encouraged, marking boxes off on her lists. After finishing up, she quietly excused herself, letting the three talk.

“How are you feeling Miss Granger,” Minerva asked.”it looks like your healing is coming along quite nicely.”

“I’m still quite sore and lots of movement feels impossible, but things are better than even when I just woke up. Thanks, for asking mum,” Hermione muttered quickly, casting a smirk in the older witch’s direction. 

“Oh my girl,” Minerva cried out and practically launched herself into Hermione's arms. 

The younger witch chuckled, but tried to hide a grimace of pain from the enthusiastic reunion with her mother. Severus however, did not miss it.

“Easy Minerva. We still have to be gentle with her for a time,” Severus kindly reminded her.

“Yes, yes, of course,” McGonagall acknowledged, covering her sniffling and tears with a handkerchief.

“Hermione, how much do you remember?” Severus asked.

“A large amount of it. Everything today has been familiar and easy to access so far. School years are kind of confusing, as the most recent drift closer to the top. I’ll just have to work at finding a way to organize it better. And I’m sure there will be blanks or obscure things I cannot locate right away. My mind is rather well organized and obviously a little protective of me, so it may be blocking a lot, so it doesn’t cause me to become unhinged when it all comes rushing back. But the guy who cast the spell is a genius, so I’m sure nothing went wrong,” she teased.

Her teasing seemed to have the opposite effect however, as tears started to stream down his face. She quickly gathered him in her arms, despite any discomfort, and held him as the tears flowed.

“I’m so sorry my love,” Hermione insisted. “I never intended to hurt you, but I was called to give myself to the cause. You know that feeling.”

Severus sat quietly, fully understanding her stance. He’d made the decision without her, even against her strongly worded rejection of the idea, to become a spy for the light. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to rage at her for leaving him alone for five years, but he couldn’t find the anger that had so commonly been his companion over those years. At that moment, he was just glad that she was alive and that she was back to him.

“Yes, well, were you not still recovering from an injury that could, possibly should, have killed you, I would have no qualms about hexing you into next week, my dear,” Minvera said sternly, before softening slightly and showing her age. “You cannot just do that to an old lady’s heart.”

Hermione looked suitably chastened, and reached gently for her mother’s hand. She was starting to tire again, her body still recovering, but there were things to be said and apologies to be made, so she pushed on. 

“I wanted to tell both of you. I wanted you both to understand that I was doing this to help preserve our way of life, to find a way to bring an end to Tom before he could really become a power again. Dumbledore insisted I could not tell you, that you would likely convince me against the plan. Though, with my new outlook on the man, from the way he’s treated Harry, I’m sure he was more concerned with keeping you both in check. I’m sorry for letting myself be a pawn,” she admitted softly.

“Yes, well, that old goat is used to getting what he wants and has been using people all his life,” Minerva growled.

It was a side of her friend that Minerva hadn’t wanted to see clearly until certain events had been set into motion. While it was clear that Hermione would be a life saver to the boy destined to save the world, she knew that Albus put way too much stock in prophecy and fate, letting it dictate actions more than actual tactical thinking sometimes.

“We have you back,” Severus said softly. “This is what matters now. This, and making sure Albus doesn’t suspect anything is wrong, because I will not lose you again.”

“Thank Merlin, Poppy has woven silencing spells into the privacy curtains,” Minerva huffed.

Hermione attempted to interrupt, but Snape held his hand up gently, and continued.

“You have the boy’s trust and loyalty. While it would have still worked for you to not remember, we will make it work even if you do. You are more powerful and knowledgeable with the full powers of a witch of your actual age. Play the role still, and you’ll be more able to keep him alive. And Minerva and I will continue to keep the three of you alive as well.”

Hermione just nodded when he was finished, seeing the wisdom in his words. She winced as a strong twinge of pain cut across her body. Looking down, she noticed that her entire torso was still wrapped and covered in bandages.

“We’ll deal with that later, love,” Severus assured her, lifting chin, so her eyes meet his, and smiling, just for her. “For now, let’s get you a pain potion and some more sleep. A little more time will make things better.”

Hermione gratefully accepted the pain relief, and settled down into bed, before opening her arm expectantly to her husband. Severus rolled his eyes, but flicked his wand to enlarge the bed and crawled in beside her. Gently, he enfolded her into his embrace, and it wasn’t long before he felt her drift off to sleep. He wasn’t far behind her, and marveled at how much it was healing his wounded soul, just to be laying with his wife, his witch, his other half, in his arms again.

“I’ll keep watch for a while,” Minerva offered softly. “Sleep and heal my boy.”

When the older witch left several hours later, the two were still deeply asleep in each other's arms, the rest helping them to heal in many ways. She had requested Poppy to keep Dumbledore clear of the pair, the medi-witch a good friend of the trio, easily agreed. The old Headmaster had meddled enough, it was time for them to get their lives back on track.

  
  
  
  



	26. Vows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the enthusiasm for this story! I’m loving it.
> 
> Enjoy and as always, let me know what you think.

**August 15, 1996**

The healing of Hermione’s wounds was going slowly in her opinion, despite the knowledge that she most likely should have died from the severity of the wounds. Any normal teenage witch would have. However, it still tugged at her nerves as much as the incessant itching of the scar across her chest as it continued to heal.

After a long discussion with Minvera, Poppy, and Severus, they had decided that the safest option was to keep her at Hogwarts until the new year started. Minerva had flooed over to the Burrow to discuss the arrangement with Molly, explaining that while Hermione was healing nicely, the injury had been so grave, that they collectively felt better having her on hand to update her healing protocol on a moment by moment basis. So far, the decision had gone uncontested, but Hermione expected Dumbledore to swoop down any day and order her back to the Burrow, into the role of an ordinary student. The small group was fairly confident that their secret was still safe from the meddling Headmaster, but each moment provided an opportunity for that assumption to be shattered.

However, it had only been in the last two days that Hermione had even been able to get out of the stiff hospital bed at all. She had been working through physical therapy routines with Poppy, since she had woken up, increasing her endurance and tolerance each day. The magically rebuilt muscles were tight and ached constantly, compounded by some atrophy from her month of sedation. As they stretched, massaged, manipulated, and worked the muscles, the overall condition and performance improved. Now, Hermione had moved on to being able to take short walks around the room, with aid. 

Minerva was walking her around the room at the moment, one hand hovering over the small of Hermione’s back, while the other clutched her wand, ready to react if a fall looked iminent. The young witch was about halfway through her second circuit of the room, when she extended her right leg too far forward, causing pain to seer and slice through her right hip, and the scar to roughly. A wand sliced through the air, levitating Hermione before she could collapse, and directing the witch back into her bed.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Minerva insisted calmly. “Where’s Severus wandered off to?”

“Brewing,” Hermione replied. “He had to restock a couple of the potions for me, as well as Poppy’s general supply. He also wanted to experiment with some scar salves to see if he could increase the effectiveness. He’s been glued to his notebook, writing down theories for days, I had to insist he spend some time in the lab.”

“Have you seen it?” Minerva asked, vaguely referencing the wound that had nearly torn the witch in half.

Hermione looked down at where she picked at her fingernails, in her lap, her face coloring slightly.

“No,” she answered softly. “I haven’t worked up the courage yet. Anytime Poppy works on it, I look away.”

Gently, Minerva placed her fingers beneath her daughters chin and lifted the younger woman’s face to look her in the eyes.

“It’s not going to change how he feels about you,” the older witch insisted.

All of Hermione’s emotions, since waking up, were flooding her eyes. Sadness, that she had missed this time with Severus and that he had suffered and struggled during their time apart. Fear that things would never be the same between them because of the choices she had made. Anxiety that he had moved on and wouldn’t want her back.

Severus had been there at her bedside night and day. He had helped take care of her, working with Poppy to heal the dark wounds she had received. He had curled beside her and held her in the magically expanded bed each night. But they hadn’t really talked about things yet. Minerva had stopped by frequently to have long conversations with her daughter, where Severus had given them privacy to catch up, which was how Hermione knew about everything that had happened since her memories had been locked away, but her stern and emotionally distant husband hadn’t broached the subjects. It felt to her, like he was holding something back, and Hermione feared the worst.

“Talk to him Hermione,” Minerva insisted. “You two will figure it out.”

It was at that moment, that the very moody wizard they had been speaking of, came striding into the hospital wing, a floating stack of crates floating through the air behind him. He smiled briefly as he caught Hermione’s eye, before turning to his task. Quick wand movements send potion vials floating into the store room and to their proper location.

“I’ll give you two some space,” McGonagall said, giving her daughter’s hand a gentle squeeze, before standing and departing.

Once the crates had been banished back to his lab, Severus strode over to his wife’s bedside, taking the seat Minerva had vacated, and pulling the privacy curtain closed around them.

“How are you doing today?” Snape asked gently.

“Frustrated,” Hermione admitted bitterly. “Everytime I think I’m gaining ground, it feels like I'm back tracking. The scar is still pulling and causing a lot of pain.”

“It’ll take some time,” he insisted. “It is a major injury and unfortunately you won’t be back on your feet overnight even with magic.”

Digging briefly into his robe, he pulled out a small jar, and held it up for her. The substance in the clear container was clearly a thick paste, pale green in color. It was nothing she had seen before to recognize, but knew that he had been experimenting and this was likely his own creation.

“This may help,” Severus offered. “It should help loosen the skin and soft tissue just enough to prevent the pulling and ease the pain. It should also hopefully help reduce the scarring some.”

He paused briefly, looking down and away from her, his face coloring slightly as he offered the jar out to her.

“It needs to be massaged into the scar and surrounding skin once a day. It’ll absorb into the soft tissue,” he explained. “You could, or I could get Poppy.”

Hermione’s gut clenched. It would mean more time exposing the scar. Additionally, he clearly felt uncomfortable referencing the damage, despite the fact that he had already seen it, and was the one to do the majority of the healing on the injury. She also knew that sooner or later, she would have to confront the damage herself.

Her voice was soft, barely more than a whisper as she forced herself to ask, “would you mind?”

Snape looked up quickly in shock, unsure if she’d heard her correctly. His dark eyes met her soft brown eyes. She nodded softly, assuring him that he’s heard her right. Her fingers were already threading the buttons of her large, button down shirt to reveal the heavy bandaging underneath, still wrapped up to keep the tender scar and skin from rubbing against the fabric of her clothes and increasing the pain.

Long, familiar fingers, helped to unwrap the soft bandages. Her hands shook and she had clenched her eyes shut, struggling to find the strength to look at the damage still.

“It’s alright,” Severus whispered. “I’ve got you.”

She sucked in a sharp breath as the air touched the sensitive skin. The shaking decreased slightly as the gentle tone of his voice. Even after years, she still felt uniquely comfortable with the man she’d chosen to spend her life with. Attempting to calm herself further, she took several deep breaths, trying to pull on her mental discipline.

“This might feel a little cool,” he warned her, before she felt two fingertips, with a cool cream, make contact with the tip of the scar, where it slightly curled around to the back of her left shoulder.

She sucked in a sharp breath when he made contact, the temperature of the salve jolted her slightly, but it was the hypersensitive scar and regrown skin around it that was almost too much to take. Hermione forced herself to breathe through it, as he gently worked his way down the scar, occasionally removing his fingers long enough to scoop up another glob of the cream.

Severus had worked his way slowly and gently down most of her body, mechanically focusing only on the scar and the surrounding skin. The long scar was jagged and wide, the damaged skin stretching and knotted, pulled tightly together. The skin he’d had to magically regrow at the edges of the wound was raw, red and peeling. He liberally used the salve, careful to have plenty on his fingers each time, so that he didn’t cause painful friction against the skin. The jaw was almost empty, by the time he had made his way down to where the scar shrunk and tapered into a thick line that curled around her right hip.

It wasn’t until he was close to finished applying the salve, that she summoned the courage to open her eyes. She stared straight forward at first, fighting the compulsion to close her eyes again. After a moment, she forced her gaze down, eyes roving over her upper body, tracing the lines and angry ridges of the scars. She choked down a whimper, the sound catching in her throat as she surveyed the damage.

At the sound, Severus’ heart clenched in his throat. With his clean hand, he reached out and grabbed her hand in his larger one.

“It’s alright,” he whispered. “It’ll heal and shrink some, but the important thing is that you survived. You’re alive.”

“Alive, but maimed,” she whimpered.

“Still beautiful to me,” he insisted, strongly.

She looked up from the scars and saw the outpouring of emotion in his dark eyes. All the love she’d been doubting was standing out proud, in the adoring gaze he trained on her.

“Besides, I’ve got my fair share of scars. It’s just a reminder of what we survived. Proof that you fought for life,” he insisted.

She continued to watch him, as he finished the job, then gently wrapped the wound back, and buttoned her shirt for her. After that, he slid into the bed next to her, and softly pulled her into his arms, laying her head across his chest. Hermione noticed that the scars were already starting to tingle lightly, as if being numbed somewhat, and that when he cradled her in his arms, the scar didn’t pull painfully as her upper body shifted into place. She listened to the steady beat of his heart for a time, enjoying the comfort of his arms around her.

“It’s strange that Albus hasn’t come to check in,” she mused thoughtfully. “Not that I want him to storm in here and ruin this, but it’s out of character for him.”

Severus stiffened slightly, and she once again got that feeling that there was something he was keeping from her. Looking up from her place on his chest, she noticed his dark eyes staring off into the distance, unfocused.

——————————

**July 12, 1996**

“Severus, help,” the blue-ish, wispy phoenix patronus pleaded.

Snape sat up in the chair he had been dozing in, Hermione still unconscious in the bed next to him. The thick white bandaging around her chest had a slowly growing red stain, and he knew it would need to be changed shortly. However, the brief and weak patronus had set him on edge, something was wrong with the Headmaster.

Quickly, he stood and strode to the fireplace, stepping into the empty grate, and dropping a handful of gritty powder down. Green flames enveloped him, as he was swept away to his destination. As he stepped out of the flames in the Headmaster’s office, he immediately noticed that the large chair behind the desk had been tipped over. 

Rushing around the large, ornate desk, Severus fell to his knees on the floor beside the great Albus Dumbledore, who was laid crumpled on the ground, curled up around himself.

“What happened, Albus?” Severus insisted, his wand already running diagnostics.

Dark magic flared bright and hot in the older wizards left arm, on the wispy diagnostic image. Gently, Snape turned Albus on his back, stretching him out, in order to observe the arm. The potion master grimaced, as he observed the blackened, withered wrist, dark magic twining like dangerous vines, as it started to grow up into the forearm. Cursing violently under his breath, Severus began casting rapidly. The force and vehemence of the dark magic pushed back against his attempts to pull it from the old man’s body. Within moments, the magic had claimed the entire lower arm, leaving it a withered mess. The dark tendrils had started to push into Severus, trying to intertwine itself with the magic attempting to heal it, trying to leech the magic away from the stronger source. 

Changing tactics rapidly, Severus went on the defensive, trying simply to contain and detach himself from the darkness that reached out to consume him. While he worked, he noticed a glint of light off a silvery band, on the wizard’s withered hand. Reaching out, he pressed his fingers to the metal, pulling back with a sharp hiss, as the pull of the dark magic flared brighter and more intensely. 

Snarling, Severus weighed his options. The intensity of the magic seemed to be emanating from within the ring. While the ring was still attached, it would likely continue to grow rapidly, until the Headmaster was a withered husk on his office floor. But to touch the ring, long enough to remove it, would condemn Severus to a similar fate. Making a decision, he cast a strong slicing hex, taking off the blackened finger just above the ring. The finger fell away and crumbled into dust as it hit the floor, the ring rolling away, under the desk. Snape felt the dark magic recede, the strength seeping from it with the separation of the cursed object.

Quickly, he fought to contain the magic. The growth had slowed to a crawl, creeping it’s way past Dumbledore’s elbow, and up into the upper arm. Within minutes, the magic was contained, the grow stopping and leaving just withered remains of the lower arm. The dark magic continued to pules within the wizard, contained within the arm. Breathing heavily, he levitated Albus to the bed in the next room, leaving him to rest, before rushing away to his lab, searching through dusty tomes, looking for potions and spells to help counter the curse.

——————————

**July 19, 1996**

“There is no cure, Albus,” Severus insisted. “I’ve contained the curse, but even now, it’s pushing against the boundaries, trying to consume you.”

“You’ve found no other options?” Albus inquired.

“After examining the ring, I’ve come to the conclusion that it cannot be cured, while the caster still lives,” Snape explained. “I have several potions brewing that can help slow it’s progress, but we cannot stop it.”

“How long?”

“No more than a year,” he replied, without emotion.

“Well, then we must prepare for the inevitable. I must prepare Harry for his task while I still have time. And he needs to learn how to defend himself properly. You’ll take the DADA class this coming year. Only you can prepare him,” Dumbledore replied.

“Potter won’t listen to me. That was made clear last year when he failed miserably at learning to guard his thoughts,” Severus snapped.

“Nonetheless, you will teach him,” Albus insisted. “I need you to do something else for me as well, Severus.”

“What more could you demand of me?”

“When it is time, I need you to finish the job. Spare and old man, the misery of a long and painful death.”

“You cannot be serious,” Snape demanded. “I have played the role of your spy. I cannot erase the things I’ve seen and done, and yet you demand that I tarnish my soul even more?”

“It is because you are my spy, that you must do this. Once I am gone, Riddle will be able to progress with his plans. The light will need someone in his trusted inner circle to make sure that in the end, Riddle is defeated.”

Snape turned from the man, moving to stare into the darkness outside the window. His jaw was clenched in frustration as he mulled over his options.

“It can only be you. For the greater good, you must kill me,” Albus intoned.

“Screw you and your greater good Albus,” Snape snarled. “You’ve abused that excuse one too many times.”

“Then do it for your wife, Severus. As Harry Potter’s close friend, she will be in grave danger once I am gone. If you wish for her to survive, you will put yourself in a position to help protect her.”

  
——————————

“Severus?” Hermione questioned when he was quiet for a while. 

“Albus is dying. He doesn’t have the strength now to leave his chambers,” Severus explained.

“Surely there is something you can do?” Hermione insisted.

The thought of what Voldemort might do, with the great Albus Dumbledore out of the picture, was terrifying, no matter how much of a pain in the ass the old wizard was.

“I’ve given him potions to return some of his strength for a time, but he won’t live more than a year.”

Hermione laid there quietly, her mind rushing furiously over the possibilities and implications of the old man's death.

“The Dark Lord has ordered Draco to kill Albus this year. A punishment for his father’s failure at the Ministry.”

“What are we going to do?” Hermione asked.

Severus swallowed hard, before admitting softly, “Albus requested that I be the one to kill him, when it is time, before the dark magic destroys him. In order to save Draco’s soul and cement my place at Riddle’s side.”

“How dare he ask that of …” Hermione started to rant, before being cut off.

“I’ve agreed,” Snape said. “I’ve given my vow.”

  
  



	27. About Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, sorry that it’s been so long since the last update. Here in the next chapter. As always, I appriciate any comments and feedback! Thanks for everyone still following along!

**September 24, 1996**

“Haven’t you tortured him long enough?” Minerva demanded, a hint of anger in her voice.

They were sitting in the older witch’s office, in the chairs before the fire, having a ‘career planning session’ under heavy magical warding to help deter suspicions. Hermione’s angry snarl was illuminated by the glowing yellow and red flames.

Minerva had stayed out of the matter until now, trying to let two work things out after she had learned that Hermione had banished Severus from the hospital wing following a fight. Since the two had been separated for so long, she figured it would be important for them to figure out how to be a couple again on their own, even if it had to be in secret.

Having learned from Poppy about the blow-up, the Gryffindor witch had made her way down to the dungeons, where she found her son-in-law furiously brewing in his private lab. Several cauldrons had been bubbling away, as he’d been aggressively chopping ingredient, his anger making his usually controlled and exact work more haphazard. She had been just about to stop him, when he sliced down hard, cutting into flesh. Blood had surged across the cutting surface contaminating his ginger root, as he swore colorfully.

It had taken Minerva several hours to settle the wizard down from his dark mood - mixtures of anger, frustration, and sadness. The two had spoken several times since that day, as time dragged on and Hermione pointedly refused to see Severus. Minerva had helped with the remainder of Hermione’s recovery and seen her daughter several times since the school term had started, but hadn’t brought up the matter. That is, until now.

“He agreed and vowed to commit the murder of Albus Dumbledore! How do you expect me to forgive him for letting the old coot manipulate him into yet another ill conceived plan? It the blasted Dark Mark all over again,” Hermione insisted.

“And?” Minerva shouted, one of the rare times she had raised her voice to the young witch. “As if you are not guilty of letting Albus manipulate you?”

The older witch yanked herself out of her chair, pacing in front of the fireplace, while a deep, red blush stained Hermione’s cheeks, her face falling into an expression of great sorrow.

“5 years! Nearly five great bloody long years that we lost with you,” Minerva raged. “All because you let Albus manipulate you into his foolhardy plan! And yet you have the nerve to terrorize that poor boy for falling for the same?”

Minerva stopped paced and stood tall in front of the occupied chair.

“I’m incredibly disappointed in you, Hermione,” the older witch stated sadly, a heavy weariness in her voice.

Hermione, despite her strength, collapsed in on herself, wishing the chair would just swallow her up, hide her from view. Her anger had melted in a moment with those words spoken to her, opening her eyes to how hypocritical she had been. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she choked out a reply.

“Oh mum, I’m just so scared. It made me so angry at him,” Hermione wailed, breaking out into heavy sobs. “All the terrible things he’s been coerced into doing and now having Albus’ death hanging over him now as well. I’m worried about him, and angry at him, but even more angry at Albus. I want to march up to his office and kill him myself right now.”

Distress crossing her face, Minerva pulled the young witch up into her arms, before settling into the now empty chair with the girl cradled in her arms. Her hand, growing leathery with age, gently brushed the wavy hair back from Hermione’s eyes and wiped tears from her cheeks.

“Easy now, my girl, easy now,” Minerva murmured.

When the tears had mostly subsided, the older witch spoke again.

“It’s understandable to feel that way. Severus and I both know that from experience. You need to make this right though. That poor boy is suffering. He’s been suffering for the last, almost five years, but I bet it’s killing him quite a bit faster knowing you’re you again, but he’s still lost you.”

“He hasn’t lost me,” Hermione objected.

“But he doesn’t know that, does he?” Minerva asked. “You threw him out of your recovery, haven’t seen him or spoken to him as yourself in over a month. He’s just had to watch you from a distance as you keep up the role of Hermione Granger. What of that assures him that he still has you, my dear?”

“You’re right, I need to fix this,” Hermione grimaced.

“I suggest groveling and gifts,” Minerva declared.

* * *

**October 12, 1996**

Hermione held her breath as she pressed tight against the stairwell wall, as Dean and Seamus walked past her into the 6th year boy’s dorms. Harry’s invisibility cloak was wrapped tight around her, hiding her from view. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes and get more annoyed than she already was at Dumbledore.

“Who in their right mind gives an eleven year old an invisibility cloak - family heirloom or not,” she muttered, once the boys had passed and she continued down the stairs.

Harry and Ron were out for a late Quidditch practice to prepare for the upcoming start of the season. It was the first time since speaking with her mother weeks ago that she’d been able to sneak away. She’d made excuses about an early night and slipped away. Her first stop had been her room to change and close and ward her bed curtains, the second was a quick trip into Harry’s trunk. While she knew the Marauder’s map didn’t show the teachers quarters, it did reveal offices, and she didn’t need him checking the map tonight and catching her somewhere she shouldn’t be. As far as most people knew, she was still Hermione Granger, and it needed to stay that way.

It didn’t take long for someone to open the portrait to enter the common room, allowing Hermione to slip silently past with no one the wiser. Quickly, she made her way through the Castle to the Defence classroom on the fourth floor. At this time, the classroom hallways were mostly empty, students seeking the comfort and warmth of their common rooms.

Severus had kept office hours on Saturday evenings for years. It was his way of complying with the directive that he was expected to be available for students, while also avoiding it, as few, if any students ever used the weekend for academic purposes, unless absolutely necessary. Add on to that the fact that he’d never been a particularly well-liked teacher, even before the last five years.

Hermione slipped through the door, into the Defense classroom, shutting it silently behind her, before allowing the invisibility cloak to slide free of her form. Tucking it gently into her satchel, beside her other treasures, she straightened the strap before crossing the room to the staircase that led to the office.

She knew he’d be aware of her presence before she even had a chance to knock on the office door, as all the teachers had wards over their classrooms, most of them her design. It was no shock to her, when the door gently blew open with magic before she’d climbed the final step.

“Yes?” Snape inquired wearily, not looking up from the stack of parchment in front of him, his quill dancing across the page.

A mischievous smirk graced Hermione’s features as she observed his inattention. Stepping across the threshold, she quickly pulled the door behind her, gently leaning back against it as it shut. The soft click of the latch drew his attention. Severus’ dark eyes fixed on her and he froze, quill halfway to the ink jar.

“Professor, sorry to interrupt, but I have something to give you,” she told him, her voice husky and dripping with false innocence as she met his intense stare.

She smirked at him, still leaning against the door and drawing foot up, the sole perched against the wood. Her pack gently slid to the floor. She hitched an eyebrow up as she met his dark gaze, a challenge.

Confusion was his first response, as they hadn’t been on speaking terms for a while, but it quickly gave way to interest. His eyes traveled down her body, admiring the view of her cleavage, her dark button-down shirt provided, despite his low angle, and the way her jeans clinged to her legs. Despite still inhabiting the younger body due to the de-aging potion, he could see simply in the way that she carried herself that it was no longer the young girl that resided in the body.

“Is that so, Mrs. Snape?” Severus replied silkily, using her true name.

He could see the effect his voice always had on her, the shiver that ran down her spine, her eyes half closed as she continued to lean against the door. Severus wanted to be mad, frustrated, or even mildly annoyed at her for ignoring him for the last month, for being angry at him for a decision he made. A decision that was a response to the decision she had made without consulting him years ago. However, seeing his wife standing there, the mischievous smirk, and desire glinting in her eyes, all he could think was how lucky he was to have her back. The real her. The woman he had grown up with, fell in love with, and shared a life with for years. The woman he swore a thousand times over, that he’d forgive in an instant if only he could have her back. And here she was.

He stood slowly, straightening his teaching robes as he did so, trying to adjust the uncomfortable tightness in his trousers subtly. The laughing glint in her eyes told him that he hadn’t been subtle enough. Wrapping his robes tightly around his frame, he moved around his desk and stalked towards her. 

It wasn’t long before he was upon her, his arms reaching up to rest against the wood on either side of her head, his large frame leaning into her.

“And what is it, that you have for me,” he leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Hermione?” 

She moaned softly, the feel of his breath on her skin, causing goosebumps to raise along her skin. Before she could respond, one of his hands reached down between them, deftly slipping the buttons on her shirt loose, starting from the bottom. 

“Perhaps it is under here?” He queried softly, before pressing a gentle kiss to the skin beneath her ear.

Briefly, her mind wanted to push him back and stop his progress, still self-conscious of the large scar bisecting her upper body. His salve had helped substantially in the healing process, but the scar was still quite large. However, his voice had grounded her again, reminding her that she wanted this. She needed him. Watching him teach his classes, sit at the head table, and stalk through the halls without being beside him, had been torture for her. In class, his voice had often left her wet and wanting him despite her anger.

His other hand moved to follow the progress of the first, settling against the exposed skin at her hip, his grip briefly tightening and his breath catching in his throat, before gliding up her side. She gasped as he reached her covered breast, her hands moving to clutch at his shoulders.

Pulling back slightly, he let his gaze slide over her body, as his hand pushed the unbuttoned shirt off her shoulders. He groaned as he revealed her silky, Slytherin green bra, then caught her satisfied smirk. Growling slightly, he crashed his lips down upon hers, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her tightly against his body.

Hermione instantly submitted to his passion, her body straining against his, her mouth opening to him, and her hands slid up his neck, to tangle in his long, dark hair. Her body shivered in delight as his grip on her body tightened and he devoured her mouth.

He only broke away from her mouth as the need to breathe became too desperate. Gasping heavily, he lowered his head to her neck, kissing his way along her flesh. Hermione threw her head back, allowing him full access, softly moaning in response to his ministrations. 

One of Severus’ hands had just reached up to unclasp her bra, when suddenly, she slumped in his arms. Her moans of pleasure became a groan of pain as her body slumped. Pain lanced through her head, white, blinding light bursting behind her eyes briefly, before a series of memories started to flash. A mix of her past and her present flashed past, meshed together oddly.

Severus had quickly carried her over to one of the chairs before the fire and set her limp form within it. His wand was out in moments, casting various diagnosis spells over her. He had just been about to send a patronus off to Minerva and Poppy when she started to stir.

“Hermione?” He asked, holding her head gently. “Are you alright, love?”

Slowly she opened her eyes, her head aching and pounding. Looking up into his dark eyes, she nodded slightly, grimacing when sharp pain shot through her head.

“What happened?” Snape insisted, concern etched across his face. “I should summon Poppy and Minerva.”

“No,” Hermione insisted weakly. “I’m alright. It has passed.”

“What has?” Severus demanded, his concern growing by the second.

“Just some residual effects from your memory spell breaking before it was time,” she explained.

His face fell, a deep pain and sadness maring his features. Severus dropped his gaze away from her, ashamed that he was responsible for her pain, Quickly, she lifted her hands to his face, bringing his eyes back up to meet hers.

“It’s not your fault love,” Hermione insisted. “I asked this of you. And it was my magic that broke through your spell work. We all accepted the risks that there might be difficulty with my memories merging when they came back. A little pain isn’t the end of the world.

“Besides, I’d rather not deal with my mum and Poppy in this state,” Hermione insisted with a sheepish grin, gesturing to where her shirt and bra were hanging from her elbows, her chest exposed.

“I suppose not,” Severus conceded, reaching up to help her straighten her clothing. Then his tone turned stern as he insisted, “But if it gets any worse, you are to let one of us know immediately.”

“Of course,” Hermione agreed. “Would you grab my bag please? I’m not quite sure about standing up just yet and I really did have something for you.”

Severus complied, bringing the leather satchel to her side quickly. He watched as she undid the buckle and opened the mouth. Dark eyes widened in surprise as she pulled out a familiar book.

“It seems you misplaced this, my Prince,” she smiled at him.

“Where did you find this?”

“Harry got his hands on it. Seems you left it in your old classroom on accident,” Hermione told him.

“Well, that explains why Slughorn has been so impressed with Potter,” Severus growled.

“Yes, well, he’s bound to be quite annoyed when he finds out it’s gone, but it is one of your more dangerous books to get lost,” she offered. You were quite fed up with the Marauders at this point and were working on some of your more questionable spells.”

Hefting the book in his hands, Severus looked at it with a hint of regret.

“Honestly, I probably should have destroyed this ages ago, but we’d collaborated on many of the changes to these potions and I couldn’t bring myself to do it,” he admitted shyly.

“You did what you felt was in your control, as Dumbledore wasn’t much help in those days. That was the year that was the worst of it. You resented Sirius and James the most at that point. And you know my stance on labeling magic as good or bad. Maybe just keep a better hold on it, this time,” she told him.

Gently, she pulled his face closer, placing a gentle and chaste kiss upon his lips. Severus allowed his eyes to fall shut as she kissed him, then leaned his head on her shoulder, simply enjoying her presence. 

“I’ve missed you so much,” she admitted softly. “I’m so very sorry. For everything.”

A single tear dropped from his eye onto her shoulder. Snape nodded tightly.

“Agreeing to his demands was a mistake,” he explained, “but I thought I was protecting you.”

“I understand now. Not just this, but the Dark Mark. I get it. Not only Dumbledore’s ability to manipulate you into getting what he wants, but also the pull to do what you think is the right thing, to protect those you care about.

“Can you ever forgive me, love?” Hermione asked, shifting to look into his black eyes, filled with emotion. “I would understand if you cannot. It wasn’t fair of me to leave you all without discussing it with you first.”

“Always,” Severus declared.

His black eyes bore into hers, showing her the strength of his love for her. With a quick flick, her wand was in her hand. She transfigured the chair she was sitting in, into a small couch, before pulling her dark wizard up beside her. Severus curled up behind her on the couch, holding her tight. They sat in content silence for several minutes before he cleared his throat.

“Cat hair, really?” He asked, laughter in his voice.

Hermione groaned and let her head fall to the arm of the couch. Snape’s unrestrained laughter rolled over her, filling her with such a feeling of joy that she hadn’t experienced in years.

“It’s been difficult to come to terms with really,” she admitted quietly.

“What has?” He asked, somewhat confused again.

“Knowing that if I hadn’t jumped through time, that this timeline would have been my life. Small differences likely, but still what it would have looked like. Instead of the life I had with you and mum.”

He nodded into her hair in understanding. She’d have had much of the same life and friendships as she’d developed in the last few years, would have had her parents back, and nothing would have ever happened between them. He stayed silent, wondering what his life might have been like without her. Severus wasn’t sure that he wanted to see what that would have looked like.

Hermione shifted into him, turning in his embrace to look at Severus.

“I wouldn’t change it, Severus,” she told him, having intuitively known what he was thinking. “Not to have my real parents back even. Despite the looming threats we’ve faced on and off, I wouldn’t trade this life with you for anything.

“I know I left you, but I did it for us. I did it in the hopes that this would help us in the upcoming fight, as we all knew that he would eventually return.”

“We both know that having you at your full capacity is a stronger asset in this fight,” Severus insisted.

“Well, I never said that I still thought Albus’ arguments make sense still. Though, as Harry’s friend, I’ll have a somewhat easier time protecting him.”

“How is that going by the way?” Severus asked. “Your friendships? It must be difficult since you went to school with most of their parents. Many of them were friends we lost during the first war.”

Hermione sighed heavily. “It’s difficult, knowing how much it would mean to Harry to hear stories of his parents, having been friends with Lily. Or even for Neville to be able to know his parents better through me.”

Severus hugged her close. “The time will come, once all of this is over. You’ll be able to provide them with those stories and memories. Just hang on to that thought.”

They continued to speak of the past few years, both opening up about what the time apart had been like. During her recovery, they had danced around the subject. Now, with the floodgates open, it was time. Severus reluctantly opened up about his addiction struggles and Minerva’s help in managing. Hermione spoke of the aftermath of her attempted rape. Both were red eyed and had tear stained faces by the end of the night.

Severus reluctantly escorted her back to the Gryffindor common room several hours past midnight, with her under the cover of the cloak, and bid her goodnight. Before they had gotten within sight of the Fat Lady, she had pulled him into a dark alcove and kissed him soundly, before pulling back. Snape took himself down to the dungeon, where their shared quarters still resided. Laying alone in his bed, he sighed heavily, wishing that he could have her back by his side again.

* * *

  
Hermione slipped up the stairs to the girl’s dorms. Silently, she slid between the curtains of her bed, still fully dressed, before removing the cloak from her shoulders. She was exhausted and in dire need of rest after the long, involved conversation with Severus. But she had work to do.

Leaning back, she reached into her pillowcase, pulling a small green velvet pouch out. Gently, she opened the drawstrings and dumped the golden pocket watch into her waiting palm. With a heavy sigh, she flicked open the clasp, looking down at the golden hourglass situated within, the glittering sand filling it’s glass form. The pull of the device was potent as she held it in her palm, calling to her. 

When she’d been rescued from the Department of Mysteries, they obviously hadn’t checked her belongings closely in their rush to save her life. When she’d recovered and they had been returned to her, she’d found the golden device. She remembered lingering briefly in the time room, making sure their foes were disabled, when she had seen the device, lid cracked open, but the shimmering hourglass was intact, unlike the score of other devices scattered throughout the room and broken during the battle. Silently, she’d scooped it up and tucked it away in her robes, before returning to the fight, looking for Harry and the others.

Now, she gently twisted the various nobs, sending the hourglass spinning as the device turned her back in time, to the beginning of the evening. Hermione let out a sigh of relief as her body settled six hours into the past. The pull of sleep in her bed was calling to her, but she could turn back again later to get sleep. Now, she had a job to do. 

Donning the invisibility cloak again, she made her way back down through the common room, now more busy than it had been just moments ago. Out into the Castle she went, making her way to the library. She needed to know everything she could about how to keep herself and the boys alive.


	28. Painful Losses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so I’m terrible about having the patience to withhold chapters for a schedule, so yall are getting a new chapter now!
> 
> I have a couple more written for now, that we be posted in the next days/week. Hope yall enjoy while inspiration strikes. As alway, I love the comments (they keep me going), even though I’m guilty if not responding. I do read and appreciate them all, and they keep me going with this. 
> 
> Thanks!

**November 1, 1981**

The house had been in an uproar all throughout the previous night and current day. Members of the Order of the Phoenix had been coming and going through the floo, and Dumbledore had stopped by several times. Severus had also been gone most of the last 24 hours, only checking in occasionally with his patronus. 

Hermione paced back and forth in the family room of the McGonagall home, close enough to overhear what was going on in the next room: the study with the house’s main floo. Her eyes were swollen and painfully red and her cheeks tear stained, from having been crying on and off. She briefly wiped a new tear on her damn shoulder, careful not to shift the bundle in her arms too much. 

The small child sniffled in her arms, tiny little fists grabbing and gripping at chunks of her shirt, as he rubbed his little face against her chest.

“Easy there, Harry,” she murmured into his head. “It’s alright baby boy, I’ve got you. Get some sleep, little one.”

Hermione gently bounced and rocked the little boy in her arms, willing herself not to start crying again. Her feet ached and she was exhausted, since anytime she stopped moving, the one year old in her arms would start fussing and crying. Several others had stopped in to try and help, but little Harry would only fuss more when Hermione tried to release him into another’s care. So, as his godmother, Hermione had taken it upon herself to ensure that he boy was as well as he could be given the circumstances.

“Hermione, dear,” Molly called softly from the doorway. “Come have something to eat. It’s been hours since you’ve had anything. I’ve got a bottle heating up to try for Harry, since he’s refused everything else.”

Hermione smiled wanly at the tired and worried looking woman. Molly’s brothers and husband were out trying to hunt down some of the remaining Death Eaters, with many of the other Order members. With the disappearance of their master, the previous night, many had decided to cause and do as much damage as possible before being rounded up.

Softly, Hermione crossed to the door for the kitchen. Molly was back to working away on the stove. The mother Weasley had several large pots bubbling away with different stews and meals, prepared to literally feed an army. Hermione couldn't blame her though, it was Molly’s way of coping in the moment, much like Hermione was keeping herself together, by putting Harry’s needs first at the moment.

The Weasley children were huddled around the table. Nine year old Bill and eight year old Charlie were sitting at the head, drawing on sheets of parchment. Hermione stepped up behind them and chuckled lightly, watching Charlie draw a fairly accurate Welsh Green Dragon, the young boy shining a bright toothy grin up at her. Five year old Percy was diligently working on writing his name across a sheet of parchment over and over, slowly correcting the shaky and wide spaced letters as he went. The three year old twins, Fred & George, were on the floor, playing keep away with a blue rattle, while one year old Ronald toddled back and forth after it.

Gently, Hermione, snatched a pair of play wands off the table with one hand. Holding them out towards the twins, whose eyes instantly gravitated to the new toy.

“Trade?” She offered slyly.

Fred offered up the rattle, in exchange for one of the wands, while George grabbed the other. The two frantically waved the wands around, creating small, colorful sparks dance across the room. Bending at the wait, she passed the rattle back to Ron, before scooping him up in her other arm, bouncing him gently to help settle the boy, while she still carefully rocked a sniffling Harry.

Molly, turned from the stove, the littlest Weasley held tightly to her hip, while she stirred one of the pots.

“Thank you dear,” Molly exhaled, alerted to the change by the lack of fussing.

“Of course Molly,” Hermione responded. “Give me a moment and I’ll come grab Ginerva.”

The young witch deftly slid young Ronald into one of the high chairs situated at the table, before flicking her wand out of her sleeve. With a small swish, a banana on the counter started peeling and cutting itself, before floating across the room, to land in front of the little red-head, who immediately started stuffing chunks into his mouth. Storing her wand again, Hermione came and grabbed an antsy Ginverva, who had been trying to steal the wooden spoon from her mother.

“Come here, little girl,” Hermione cooed, “let’s get you fed too.”

Pulling her tightly into her side, Hermione heard Harry sniffled again, and shifted him tighter against her side. Noticing the other child near her, Ginny reached across and laid her hand on Harry’s arm, gently gripping with her little fingers. Harry’s head peeked up from where it had permanently been buried in Hermione’s shoulder most of the day, looking shyly at the little red-head.

“Ah, there’s that handsome face, little man,” Hermione cooed happily, smiling down at the boy, his green eyes moving between her in the little girl holding his arm still. “Come on, let’s get you two fed.” 

Molly moved away from the stove, placing a piping hot bowl of soup in front of a place setting for Hermione. Behind her, floated a couple small plates with small cut up pieces of potatoes, carrots, celery, and tiny bits of meat, while landing before each of the older children. The twins quickly scurried onto an empty chair, reaching to pull bits of food off a plate and stuffing it in their mouths. The older witch snatched Ginerva from Hermione’s arms, taking a seat at the table to breastfeed the little girl. A bottle of warm milk floated into Hermione’s empty hand, just as she settled down with Harry. Shifting the baby slightly, so that he reclined in her arm, Hermione tentatively offered him the bottle. She was prepared to pull it back quickly, as the young boy had been refusing to eat, violently smacking any attempts at food away, even snubbing his favorites. However, this time he latched on to the nipple of the e bottle when offered, greedily sucking at the liquid.

“About time, Mister,” she hummed happily.

Just then, several wizards rushed through the floo into the study, the noise prominent in the kitchen. Hermione could see Remus leaning heavily against the frame, breathing heavily, as if he’d been running. While Arthur Weasley pushed his way into the kitchen, rushing over to kiss and hug his children and wife.

“What happened Remus?” Hermione asked, cautiously.

Her heart got heavier as the length between check-ins from her husband grew.

“Sirius has been arrested,” Remus divulged.

“What?” Hermione insisted strongly, startling baby Harry.

Setting the near empty bottle down, she stood, bouncing and rocking in an attempt to calm the boy again. She looked questioningly at Remus.

“They think he betrayed James & Lily. He was caught after killing Pete and a dozen muggles. They’re taking him straight to Azkaban. The Ministry has issued an order that all suspected Death Eaters are to be taken to Azkaban immediately. Trials will be arranged after the fact based on evidence.”

“But Sirius wouldn’t have betrayed them,” Hermione insisted. “We don’t even know who James and Lily choose as their secret keeper, so that they would be safer. Sirius would have never hurt them.”

“Hermione, You-Know-Who is powerful. We know he will use the darkest of magics to achieve his goals,” Arthur murmured softly.

“Sirius would not betray them,” she insisted again.

“I know we all want to believe that, Hermione,” Remus said softly. “But he was the obvious secret keeper. If not him, then either myself, you, or Severus. Obviously, it was not one of us. I didn’t want to believe it either, but it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

The werewolf moved across the room, holding Hermione in his embrace, his grief heavy on his shoulders.

“We’ll figure it out Remus. When things aren’t so dangerous, we’ll help him. I know he didn’t do this,” Hermione insisted.

Remus just nodded his acceptance, too tired to argue with the witch anymore, and took a seat at the table. Molly jumped up from her spot, passing Ginny off to Arthur, before going to dish out two more bowls for the men. 

The floo flared to life again in the other room, and Hermione heard the cry of another baby sound as the flames quieted. Molly and herself were on the way to the doorway in an instant, Hermione crossing the threshold first. She gasped in surprise and held Harry tighter as her eyes landed on the form of her husband.

Severus Snape collapsed in front of the fireplace, his dark robes torn and soaked through with blood. He groaned in pain, blood already soaking the carpet. Held within his strong grasp, was a familiar looking one year old little boy.

“Hermione, take Neville as well please. Arthur, Remus, come help,” Molly ordered quickly. “Let him go, Severus. He’s safe, you got him to safety.”

Once released, the crying child was held up to the already burdened witch. Neville continued to cry as he transitioned into Hermione’s arms, causing Harry to wake up from his light, and fitful doze. The young witch stepped back and watched as her friends worked to heal her husband’s wounds. Rocking the boy’s gently, she quickly checked Neville over, wiping away blood with her sleeve, and making sure he had no wounds of his own. Slowly, Neville and Harry started to settle back down, and Hermione allowed her attention to be drawn back to her bloody husband on the floor.

She noticed that they’d moved him from directly in front of the fireplace, and stripped most of his clothing from his body, treating the long, bloody wounds. Hermione gasped in shock, he had several long jagged wounds down his front, several cuts on his arms and legs. Remus was in the middle of turning Severus gently, and turned paler than usual at the sight of several, long angry wounds there.

Hermine longed to jump in and help, her healing skills better than any of those gathered around them, but Harry screamed himself raw for anyone else, and Neville needed her now too. She was greatly relieved when Poppy Pomfrey stepped out of the green flames and descended on Severus immediately. Arthur and Molly stepped back, allowing Poppy to work, while Remus gave her a hand.

Quickly, the long jagged wounds began to close, leaving behind red, angry, and raised lines on his skin. As the blood was removed, Hermione could see several massive, purple and black bruises. Quickly, she turned away, knowing that he had good hands, before she started sobbing again and upsetting the boys.

It was only a few moments longer, before Poppy had levitated Severus’ unconscious body to the sofa in the family room, Hermione following along behind her. She barely noticed when the floo flared back to life and Kingsley and Thorne, his partner with the Auror’s Department stumbled in. She perched gently on the arm of the sofa, watched her husband, his breathing evening out and his color returning as the potions did their work. Within moments, the pain reliever set in and the features of his face softened from the pain he had been feeling. Only then did she leave his side, sure that he was okay, and venture into the kitchen to find out what had happened, and why Severus had arrived with Neville.

Once inside the kitchen, she saw that Arthur was holding onto a sobbing Molly. Minerva had arrived and along with Poppy, were ushering the children into the family room, with their toys. McGonagall stopped briefly, and with watery eyes, gave Hermione’s arm a gentle squeeze. The older witch held her arms out, offering to take Neville from her overburdened arms. Looking down at the two boys, she noticed that they had both fallen asleep, Harry finally sounder asleep then he had been since he’d arrived, one of his hands clutching Neville’s arm. Hermione just smiled and shook her head, insisting on hanging on to the two boys, now that they had settled.

“What happened?” Hermione asked, as she walked into the room.

Thorne turned to her with a grim look, but Kingsley spoke first.

“The Longbottom’s were attacked. Fabian and Gideon had gone to reinforce their protections. Severus was sent as an additional back-up when we hadn’t heard anything from them for a while. We were only five minutes behind him.

“When we arrived, Fabian and Gideon were dead when we arrived. The Lestranges and Crouch Jr. were torturing the Longbottoms when we arrived. Jr. fled immediately, but the Lestranges put up a fight before taking flight, when another Auror pair showed up. The other pair immediately transported the Longbottoms to St. Mungos. It doesn’t look good,” the dark Auror admitted softly.

Thorne jumped in to finish the account, when Kingsly paused, “When we cleared the house, we found three dead Death Eaters in the nursery, but no Snape and the boy. We assumed he’d bring him here for safety.”

Hermione’s heart raced and she felt faint, the world slowly starting to tilt around her. Thorne quickly rushed to her side to stabilize her, while Kingsley and Remus rushed to help. Kings reached forward to take the boys, but Hermione just held them tighter against him, shaking her head. Instead, they simply helped her to a seat at the kitchen table before she collapsed, Arthur similarly ushered Molly into a chair.

She couldn’t believe that this was happening. The day before had already seemed like a horrible nightmare, learning that James and Lily were dead. Harry’s survival had made it essential that she not break down immediately, but everyone knew that things were only getting worse. Watching her husband go out to fight, coming back wounded, and now learning about the Longbottoms and the Prewitt brothers, it all felt like too much. The boys dozed in her arms, clinging to her and each other, as she stared blankly again, hoping that she’d wake up soon, that it truly was a nightmare. It was only hours later, when she felt a hand touch her shoulder, and a familiar magic wrapped around her, that she looked up, realizing how tired she was and how much her arms ached.

Severus stood over her, looking more exhausted than she felt. Gently, he helped her stand from where she had been sitting. He quietly ushered her upstairs, to their room in the house. As she walked down the hall, she could see into one of the guest rooms and could see several heads of red-hair peeking out from under the blankets that were tucked around the children. The sky outside the windows was dark, and she wondered where the days had gone.

Leading her over to their bed, he helped her gently lay the still slumbering babies on the left side of the bed, careful not to wake or jostle them too much. A flick of his wand, and an invisible barrier raised up to prevent them from rolling off the far side, while he helped her slip into the bed herself, with him curled up behind her. Hermione draped her arm across both of the boys, only able to start to relax when she could feel both of their magic thrumming across their skin. Severus held her tightly, gently stroking up and down her side, his eyes heavy.

“Augusta is at St. Mungo’s with the Longbottoms and she knows Neville is here with us. They were tortured for quite a while,” Severus explained softly, pausing briefly. “They’re not sure that Frank and Alice will make it.”

Hermione let the tears fall, dripping softly down her face, as she fought back the great wracking sobs. Severus tightened his grip on her.

“Sleep my love,” he insisted. “You’re exhausted and things are not likely to get better in the next few days. We all need our strength. Even the boys.” 

She nodded tightly, crying herself into an exhausted sleep only shortly after she felt Severus’ body relax behind her.

* * *

It was only a couple of days later, but the damage to both sides had been significant. Much of the known Death Eater forces had been rounded up and were in Azkaban, awaiting trials that would be beginning in just a few days. However, the losses for the Order and the Auror/Ministry forces had been many.

Several of the Ministry families that sided with the light had been killed, including several people Hermione had gone to school with, but barely remembered, even only a few years later. The Potters and the Prewitt brothers had been killed. And the Longbottoms were still in St. Mungos, had been admitted to the Janus Thickey Ward, with no hope of ever checking out, the diagnosis being that they had been tortured to insanity. The Auror Thorne, that had just been in the house, had also been killed, the last fatality, as Crouch Jr. and a few lower level Death Eaters were finally rounded up.

Hermione had finally gotten Harry to settle down enough to be seperated from her for short periods of time. In the family room, a small invisible pen had been set up. Harry, Neville, and Ron sat in the middle, playing together with a set of colorful blocks, the former two, never straying far from each other. Ginerva laid on her stomach nearby, with a rattle in hand, while the twins were walking around the edges of the barrier, looking for a way out. Smiling slightly at the kids, she watched for another moment or two, until Severus came and placed his hands on her shoulders.

“Dumbledore has arrived,” he whispered. 

Hermione nodded, and allowed him to turn and guide her towards the kitchen, where everyone was gathering. Much of the Order was there and already seated. The Snape’s took a seat next to the Weasleys, Hermione reaching over to squeeze Molly’s hand gently.

Standing at the head of the table, Albus Dumbledore cleared his throat. The older wizard looked quite worn, the toll of the last several days weighing on him as well.

“Alright, we have a few things that need to be addressed after the last several days. First and foremost, is the care of Harry Potter. While he has been residing here for the time being, it is time that he be moved to his permanent home.”

Several of the members wondered what Dumbledore had meant by “permanent home”, but it was Hermione that spoke up.

“Harry is already where he belongs, Albus,” the powerful witch insisted strongly. “James and Lily named Sirius his godfather, and me, his godmother. With Sirius in Azkaban, it falls to me, to take care of Harry. He will be staying with me and Severus.”

“I’m afraid Madam Snape, that it will not be possible for Harry to live with you,” Dumbledore explained, his tone one of determination and orders, that many were familiar with.

Rarely in these cases, did anyone ever argue with Dumbledore, for his word was considered law to many, in regards to Order business.

“And why is that, Headmaster?” Hermione demanded, refusing to back down on this case. “We are Harry’s family.”

“Because of the circumstances of Lily Potter’s death, Harry must be placed with Blood Relatives,” Dumbledore explained.

“Blood Relatives?” Severus asked, agast. “Petunia Dursley is Lily’s only living relative and a horrible woman and her husband’s a mean bastard. Even if they agreed to take the boy, his existence would be misery.”

“You cannot be serious, Albus?” Hermione added.

“Enough,” Albus declared loudly. “This is not up for discussion. Harry will go to live with his Aunt and Uncle. We are taking him there tonight.”

“I won’t let you,” Hermione insisted. She’d be damned if she was going to let that boy go, when as far as the wizarding world was concerned, she had the best claim to the boy. “As his godmother, he will be staying with me.”

“You do not have the right to make that decision, Madam Snape,” Dumbledore responded icily. “The Potter’s will, retrieved from their Gringotts’ account manager, clearly states, that in the event of their death, that I, Albus Dumbledore, was responsible for the decisions of care for Harry.”

The older wizard held up an official looking parchment, for Hermione to view. Quickly, she strode across the room, snatching the parchment from his grasp and dropping her eyes to it. She read over the document quickly, making note of the official wording and seals that made it a legally binding document. Hermione slumped in defeat, realizing that Albus had won.

Severus stepped forward and pulled his wife to him, distastefully passing the parchment back to Dumbledore, and walking her back to their seats.

“Apologies, Madam Snape, but the Potter’s wanted to be sure, in the event of a catastrophic battle, such as has happened in the last several days, that their son was protected. It is in Harry’s best interest to go to live with the Dursleys. Hagrid will be coming to collect him this evening,” Dumbledore instructed, his tone anything, but apologetic. 

Hermione sat quietly, all the fight gone. Severus protectively wrapping his arms around her.

“Now, Neville Longbottom will be placed into the care of his Grandmother Augusta Longbottom. Are you prepared to collect him Madam?” Dumbledore questioned one of the women seated around the table. 

“Of course Dumbledore, I am ready to take him home,” Augusta Longbottom announced.

“Very good. And finally, I have reviewed the evidence against Sirius Black. He has been declared guilty of the crimes brought against him, by a panel of Wizengamot members. The Ministry’s current directive is that all cases with substantial evidence are not going to trial. Other cases include those of the Lestranges and several other high ranking Death Eaters,” Dumbledore explained. 

“As Sirius was an Auror, the Ministry is taking these charges seriously. As the Order of the Phoenix representative, I agreed with the Ministry that there was adequate evidence. Therefore, Sirius Black, and others of Voldemort’s inner circle will be sentenced to life in Azkaban.”

Several members of the table argued that Sirius should get a fair trial, but none could come up with a strong defense for the reckless young man, more than a gut feeling that he would never have turned on James, for anything.

The meeting broke apart shortly after, with Augusta thanking Hermione for taking good care of her grandson, before flooing away with the boy. Hermione however, was completely zoned out of the entire experience, only moving from one place to another as Severus or Minerva led her. Eventually, she ended up in the family room, with Harry in her arms. She studied the little boy closely, knowing she only had a short amount of time left with him.

In the course of twenty-four hours, she lost several of her close friends. Lily and Alice had been with her in Gryffindor. While the Marauder’s had picked on her in school, they’d forged a truce in the early days of their lives outside of school. While James and Sirius hadn’t been her favorite people, she had learned to love them. And poor quiet and strong Frank. It broke her heart to think of never seeing her friends again. And those two little boys, growing up without their parents. 

No tears fell when Hagrid had come to take Harry from her, the loveable giant apologising profusely every second, trying to assure Severus that he was just following orders, as the protective wizard nearly slammed the door in his face. Shortly after, he’d lead Hermione up the stairs to their room, tucking her gently into bed beside him, though she still said nothing, barely even blinking.

Severus Snape had no words to help her that night. Nothing that would assuage her fears or fill the emptiness inside her. They both knew that Harry was headed for an unpleasant life, and there was nothing they could legally do about it. Whatever Dumbledore had told the Potters in the last days and months before their deaths, had convinced the pair that he would be the best suited to decide the child’s fate. All they could do now is wait.

* * *

**November 5, 1996**

“Severus,” a feminine voice called to him as he made his escape.

Stopping dead in his tracks, the tall, dark wizard grit his teeth as he turned towards an approaching Narcissa Malfoy. The meeting with the Dark Lord had been long and tedious, though thankfully without much pain this even. However, he was anxious to get back to the school, the active term being time he was given leeway in regards to appearances and participation.

“Yes, Narcissa?” He asked, keeping his voice cool and even.

“I would like to speak to you for a moment if I could. Will you join me in Lucius’ study?” She inquired politely, extending her arm down the hall in the direction she wished him to walk with her.

“Of course,” Severus replied smoothly, following her lead.

When they entered the study, Narcissa’s sister Bellatrix was already there, waiting for them. The dark witch’s eyes widened as she took in Snape.

“This is crazy, Cissa,” Bella hissed. “You cannot trust him.”

“Quiet Bella,” Narcissa insisted. “Now Severus, as I’m sure you’re aware, that my Draco has been given a certain task.”

The pureblood witch danced around the topic, not yet willing to tip her hand, though she was mostly sure that Severus was aware of the task, being the Dark Lord's eyes and ears inside Hogwarts.

“Yes, I have been made aware of your circumstances,” Severus conceded.

Not entirely sure how, but when Severus left the Malfoy Manor that night, he had an additional weight hanging around his neck. Narcissa had been terrified for her son, while Bella hadn’t pulled any punches. In order to satisfy the mad witch of his loyalties, he’d made an Unbreakable Vow, to aid Draco in killing Dumbledore. Not that it mattered much, since the task was his, whether he desired it or not, and it seemed that 

Bellatrix was at least momentarily convinced of his allegiance, which considering the amount of pull the dark witch had with Voldemort. Securing his place had been a fairly easy decision, as he’d already given a vow to take care of Dumbledore. However, the Unbreakable Vow tugged on him, weighing him down and threatening to drag him under if he wasn’t careful. It clung to his right wrist, as if anchoring it to some invisible force. The weight was already lighter than it had been upon first performing the magic, and would likely continue to do so, at least only until circumstances arose that would cause him to feel the pressure of his promises.

Now, he had to find a way to get Draco to open up to him, before the boy did something stupid. Finding a way to get to the Headmaster and than murder him, was not going to be an easy task. Albus Dumbledore wasn’t considered the Most Powerful Wizard for no reason. It wasn’t a task for a teenager, and Lord Voldemort knew it. Most of the Inner Circle would be defeated by the task. 

During his walk back up to the castle, he quietly wondered how he would tell Hermione. Or rather if he would tell her at all. He knew, if he didn’t tell her, it would come back on him later, but he didn’t want to worry her, and make her job posing as a student any harder.

* * *

**December 20, 1996**

Hermione was only paying half attention to her cauldron, as the Advanced Potion class worked to brew Amortentia under the direction of Professor Slughorn. She couldn’t help but smirk slightly as she heard Harry swearing next to her, the young wizard had been severely cross upon learning that the Prince’s book had gone missing and sulked during every subsequent class as his grade continued to fall. 

Thankfully, Slughorn was preoccupied with Harry’s fall from grace to consider Hermione too strongly. Horace had been her and Severus’ teacher during their years at Hogwarts, but he had been one of the people left out of the secret. He simply had forgotten any details of Hermione McGonnagal-Snape like the others. However, she knew that he had a keen Slytherine mind, and if anyone could connect the dots past the spell, it would be him.

She had noticed though that most of her teacher’s had been looking at her oddly this year. And she couldn’t blame them. Hermione Granger had been much how she herself had been during her first year. It had only been the influence of Severus and Minerva that had pushed her past the need to prove her superiority and constantly flaunt her knowledge - a trait Harry and Ron had amplified in her instead. 

Now, her essays were more short, concise, and to the point, shaving off the extra baggage. Homework now took her a fraction of the time, with limited need for actual research time, which allowed her more time to research and prepare for the eventual confrontation with Voldemort. Already, she had exhausted the library resources and was having Severus help her acquire additional sources from shops across the island and continent, using translation spells for the languages she didn’t read and speak. Hermione had raided his library at the school, even convinced him to return to their home and start unboxing tomes that had been stored before her departure. She studied soul magic, ways to create immortality, obscure dark magical rituals, any counter-curses she could find, and advanced healing magic, supplementing her current knowledge with anything and everything that could potentially help, with a rabid and unquenchable thirst.

Hermione was ripped from her thoughts as her potion finalized. Breathing in deeply, she inhaled the addictive scent of Amortentia. It smelled of wood smoke, crisp parchment, drying ink, and fresh herbs. It smelled like Severus, when he’d been teaching all day, after he’d been out in the Forbidden Forest harvesting ingredients, or in his private lab working on his research. 

Thinking for her husband made her miss him keenly. Since she had gone and made amends in October, she’d been to visit with him at least once a week. They had spent a lot of time catching up as well as talking and strategizing for the upcoming struggle. They both knew that once Dumbledore was gone, so was all semblance of control. Already, Voldemort was moving to place his people in key positions at the Ministry, ready to strike.

Unfortunately, since the near miss, their encounters had been mostly tame. He would often kiss her when she arrived and before she left, but she desired him keenly. Hermione swore that if he didn’t make a move soon, she was going to make one herself. Sure, she knew it was difficult with her posing as a student, and the stress they were both under. It didn’t help that in her case, she was living every night at least three times, sometimes more. The days were longer and at night, when she slept in the bed in the Gryffindor dorms, were dark and empty without him.

Though, despite Severus’ concerns, her headaches and dizziness had mostly faded away, instead of becoming something more. She still had issues with her memories, certain parts of her past that seemed like large, gaping holes. Much of her past before Hogwart was missing, time with the parents she’d lost all those years ago. Hermione hadn’t mentioned it to Severus though, reluctant to cause him more worry, when it wasn’t critical.

Shortly after bottling her potion and leaving a sample for Slughorn, class ended. It was not only the end of the day, but also the end of the week and term. The Christmas holidays were upon them and students would be boarding the train to return home for the holiday. Tonight however, was Slughorn’s Christmas party, which she had promised Harry that she would attend. 

She had insisted on going to the event alone, despite any rumors that might spread. Ronald had asked her to take him, but his attentions on her had been quite obnoxious. The boy had suddenly decided that she was a girl worthy of interest, though she’d never encouraged him. Instead, she’d been actively attempting to push him and her dormmate, Lavender Brown, together. It was not that she didn’t like Ron, but much more as a brother and friend than anyone else. If she had only lived the one timeline, there may have been something there, though she doubted anything would have lasted. They were simply too different. Besides, as she looked back on the past few years, she had seemed that her mind had been trying to remind her. Anytime she had been romantic with another, it had always insisted that it was wrong, protecting her bond with Severus.

Hopefully, the party would go quickly, and without a hitch, as she was tired. Deep down in her soul, she was tired, worn-down, and utterly exhausted. The time-turner use strained her. It drained her, her life slipping by more rapidly than ever before. Each time she turned back, she felt more of herself slipping away, but she couldn’t help it. She needed the feeling for time bending around her, expanding to allow a place for not only two, but occasional three, four, or even five, versions of herself, in the same timeline. She knew it was affecting her visibly, aging her faster than should be possible, her exhaustion affecting her demeanor and appearance, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She needed the time, needed to know all and find the strength to be strong enough to save all of those she cared about. Hermione always needed more time.

  
  



	29. Different Kinds of Scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lemony goodness, but also very heavy potential trigger warnings in this chapter. As has been, since the beginning, it’ll get worse before it gets better.

**January 5, 1997**

“Severus Snape, an Unbreakable Vow? Really?” Hermione snarled as she entered his office.

The moment she had stepped across the threshold, her magic had washed over him, feeling the door lock and a silencing ward placed over the room. Severus swore under his breath, once again coming face to face with her rage. Once upon a time, he had perfected the art of staying clear of her anger, but clearly he’d lost his touch.

“There was no other choice,” Severus defended himself.

He had known that she would find out about it, and probably should have told her in the beginning. Potter had always had an annoying habit of sticking his nose where it shouldn’t be, following after Draco and himself with annoying conviction that they were on the wrong side of things. Even though the boy was mostly right and had just cause to be paranoid, it was still irritating.

“Oh? You had no choice, but to protect Draco? I know you’re playing nice with the Malfoy’s because of your position, but to endanger your life for the boy? I know he is only a boy and I think everyone is worth a second chance, but my goal is to keep you and those I care about, above all else,” she insisted.

“Bellatrix was there. She was the one that insisted on the vow. I could not decline without revealing my true loyalties,” Severus responded, moving to stand in front of his desk, calmly awaiting her anger.

Hermione growled in frustration. She wanted to be mad at him, as he’d kept it from her, because he'd once again placed himself in more danger. But it was just the way things seemed to go lately, and she couldn’t find it in her to maintain the anger with him.

“You will stop keeping things from me,” Hermione demanded, walking forward and grabbing hold of the front of his robes, resisting the urge just barely, to shake some sense into him.

“Yes, ma’am,” Severus replied seriously, knowing it was in his best interest to reply and be contrite.

Hermione growled again, “Don’t you ma’am me, Severus.”

She surged forward, pressing her lips hard against his. The usually stern and composed wizard melted under her kiss, opening himself up to her. He could still feel her anger burning within her, looking for an outlet.

Since that first time in his office, he’d been reluctant to pressure her, assuming that if she wanted more, she would be the one to push the subject. Until then, he would let her lead, even though he craved the touch and feel of her, for her to fill that space within him.

As she touched him, he opened up and submitted to her, Hermione’s tongue quickly slipping between his lips. Severus groaned deep in his chest, in appreciation, his hands gripping her waist. He would have loved to savor every moment between them, draw it out, until it felt like that five years apart had never happened, but Hermione was obviously in a hurry. 

With impatient hands, she tugged at the buttons on his robes. She’d only managed to loosen half the ones on his outermost player, before a wave of wandless, non-verbal magic washed over him, and each of his buttons quickly slipped it’s hole as one. Severus gasped into her mouth as he felt his trousers slip down around his ankles and his robes parted. Hermione just smirked and pushed her hands under his clothing, trailing them up his bare chest and to his shoulders, to push them off of him. Within moments, he stood only clad in silky black boxers, his witch watching him closely, with wide, hungry eyes.

A moment later and more magic, the armchair was once again a couch, this one large and spacious. He found himself laid on his back upon it as she climbed up him, to straddle his lap. Impatiently, she ground her hips down against him, pressing into his painfully hard erection, only concealed by the thin black fabric. Severus groaned, his hands seeking the skin under her shirt, gripping tightly as she ground against him again.

Reaching to her waist, caressing his hands briefly, she quickly ripped the shirt over her head, tossing it without care, as she reached behind herself to unhook her bra. Severus pulled her down to him immediately, sucking a hardened, pink nipple into his mouth. Hermione threw her head back and moaned loudly, her hands threading through his long black hair, gripping painfully and egging her on.

One of his hands slipped the button and zipper on her jeans, fumbling slightly, as it had been years since he’d had any practice at doing so. Letting loose her grip, she shoved the tight denim down her legs, sliding her grey knickers down with it. Severus lifted his hips briefly to shuck his boxers, his rigid penis bobbing free of it’s confinement, and sliding against her moist warmth.

Hermione moaned with each slide, as his hard length strokes her opening, bumping into her sensitive clitoris, his hips grinding against her at the end of the stroke. Angling her hips slightly, she continued to slide against him, coaxing him to enter her body. On the third try, he finally slid into her burning core, and gasped, shifting ever so slightly as he entered her, welcoming the intrusion. 

As much as Severus enjoyed being the recipient, entering her sopping wet cunt spurred him on. Quickly, he shifted under her, rolling them until he was situated on top, pulling mostly out, before thrusting into her hard and fast.

“Oh yesssss, Severusss,” Hermione howled with pleasure. “Yes, more …”

Using all his strength, Severus thrust into her again and again, pounding her as she shrieked his name, her body and magic vibrating with pleasure. He knew he wouldn’t last long at all, so balancing his weight on one arm, he slipped his hand between them, roughly stoking and rubbing at the highly sensitive bundle of nerves at her core.

“Gods, I’ve missed your cock,” she insisted, feeling her body revving up, prepared to slip over the edge.

Moments later, she came hard around him, her walls contracting against his length, stimulating his own orgasm. Severus slumped down against the cushions, turning them so he lay beside her, his spent cock slipping from her folds.

Wrapping her tightly in his arms, Snape fell whole inside for the first time in years. He never wanted to let her go from him again, as he fell into an exhausted sleep within her embrace. They awoke several hours later, still wrapped up together.

Hermione groaned in pain, causing Severus to startle and look down at her with concern. She simply smiled back up at him, though she winced slightly as she shifted.

Chuckling softly, she answered his questioning look, “It’s been quite a long time since I’ve done that. Muscles that haven’t been used and my body not acclimated to the intrusion.”

“I’m sorry if I was too rough,” he insisted, looking ashamed, feeling like he should have considered it.

“Enough of that,” she insisted, cupping his face gently. “You were exactly the correct level of roughness. It’s just been some time. And I intend to remedy that frequently now.”

Hermione winced again, but rolled atop him again, her hand reaching down between them to stroke his already semi-hard cock. Smiling sweetly, she guided him inside her, once he was fully hard. Carefully, this time, she rode atop him, moving at her own pace, to slowly bring them both to completion again, before resting her weight upon his chest.

They laid like that, in silent contemplation, for a long while, before she spoke.

“I should get back to the common room,” she whispered softly, disappointment clear in her voice.

“Yes, you probably should,” he admitted sadly.

“I’ve missed you so much, my love,” Hermione said. “I hate being separated from you.” 

“I know, but hopefully it’s not too much longer. Hopefully we will end this, sooner rather than later.”

Silently, they dressed, and Hermione bid him goodnight at the door to his office, the young witch placing a disillusionment spell over her body, as she found it harder to sneak the cloak from Harry, since his meetings with Dumbledore had increased.

Severus’ body ached pleasantly, as he let himself fall back into the warmth of the couch, with her scent surrounding him. He slept soundly for the first time in years.

———————————

**August 26, 1991**

Hermione woke up in the hospital wing, with no idea of how she had gotten there. It was obviously late in the day based on the view outside the windows, but still before dinner. Her head was still foggy and spun when she tried to sit up, still, she worked on pushing herself up in a sitting position in the crisp infirmary bedding, groaning at a wave of pain rippled through her abdomen. Looking down, she noticed that she’d been changed into a clean, white hospital gown.

Before she could start to put the pieces together, Madam Pomfrey came bustling out of her office, wards having altered her that her patient was awake.

“Easy now, Madam Snape,” Poppy insisted, quickly helping to lower the witch back to a lying position in the bed. “Your body is still quite weak.”

Hermione complied, lying back down, groaning in pain yet again, her stomach racked by a cramping, dull ache, that flared to sharp pain, as she tried to move.

“Poppy,” Hermione insisted, demanding the medi-witch’s attention. “What happened to me? How did I get here?”

“Oh,” Poppy gasped, as tears seemed to grow in the woman’s eyes. “You don’t remember? What is the last thing you do remember?”

“Uhm … this morning I think. I had received an owl from Dumbledore requesting that I join him for tea. After that, everything is a blank,” Hermione explained. Suddenly, it occurred to her that something was missing. “Where is Severus? Should he have been called, if I was injured?”

“My dear, we thought that considering the circumstances, that you might wish some privacy,” an older, familiar voice spoke.

Turning her head, Hermione watched as the Headmaster crossed the expansive, empty room. Albus Dumbledore’s face bore a grave expression and Hermione knew that the older wizard had come bearing bad news.

“What happened Albus?” She asked, not entirely sure she wanted to know.

“I’m afraid my dear, that you appear to have suffered a miscarriage,” Albus said solomly.

“No, I can’t have. We had stopped trying. I wasn’t pregnant,” Hermione babbled, her brain faltering as she insisted it wasn’t true, tears welling in her eyes, on their own accord. Turning towards the medi-witch, “Poppy, it’s not true, right?”

“I’m sorry Hermione,” Pomfrey announced, shaking her head sadly. “It appears that you were about eight weeks along.”

Hermione’s mind started to shut down. This couldn’t be happening. They’d been trying for so long, longing for a child of her own. She’d decided to give up trying, knowing already what Dumbledore was asking her. Hermione had known that if she had been pregnant, that she wouldn’t be able to do what he asked, so she insisted they stop trying for a child. She couldn’t have been pregnant. It wasn’t happening.

“How?” was all that she was able to ask.

“We were having tea in my office and you collapsed. I summoned Poppy when I noticed that you were bleeding. After she brought you here, she determined what had happened,” Albus explained plainly. “I thought it better to allow you to awake before summoning Severus. I can send for him now if you’d like?”

“No!” Hermione exclaimed, startling both Albus and Poppy.

“But my dear, you really shouldn’t deal with this alone,” Poppy insisted, reaching out and lightly squeezing her friend’s hand.

“No. Promise me, Poppy. Promise that you won’t tell him,” Hermione demanded frantically.

“But …”

“No. No, buts. He cannot know,” she decided.

The old healer just nodded sadly, tears streaming down her face. Dumbledore standing beside her nodded as well.

“That is a wise choice Madam Snape,” Dumbledore insisted. “Poppy, could you give us a moment please?”

The mediwitch nodded and slipped off to her office.

“Now, Poppy noticed something else when she ran her diagnostic tests. It seems that your magic is fluctuating oddly, more so than would be normal for the child. Now, I’m not sure, but I would hazard a guess that something about approaching your original timeline is messing with your magic and your body. It could explain the miscarriage, my dear.”

Hermione just nodded dumbly, tears swimming in her eyes.

“Rest for now. We will continue our discussion later,” he insisted, moving back towards his office.

The moment she was alone, the tears fell. Hermione collapsed into the bed, curling herself into a ball, despite the pain in her abdomen. The dams had finally broken and she sobbed into the sheets, her breaths struggling to come as she broke apart. Hermione cried until night began to fall, when the tears finally stopped coming, she laid awake in the bed, staring out into space, her eyes unfocused.

Poppy moved silently around the ward, doing her best not to disturb the grieving witch.

——————————

It wasn’t much later that Severus came looking for her, knowing that Hermione had gone to Hogwarts for a meeting. He strode into the Headmaster’s office in a frenzy.

“Where is she, Albus?” Severus demanded.

The older wizard sat at his desk calmly, a large pile of official parchments sitting in front of him. Raising his eyes to his Potion’s Master, Dumbledore replied.

“Easy now, Severus. She is alright,” Albus insisted, trying to calm the frantic man. “She is in the hospital wing.”

“How can she be alright and in the hospital wing, Albus,” he demanded.

“She had a brief fainting spell, but she is alright now. Poppy just has her resting for a while.”

“Why wasn’t I called?”

“Madam Snape did not want to worry you, Severus. You can go, collect her, and take her home,” Albus assured him. 

Snape was worried when he collected Hermione from the hospital wing. His wife barely looked at him or spoke to him, as he escorted her home. When he asked her if she was alright, she simply smiled wanly and assured him that she was, and that she had just overworked herself. Hermione assured him that she would be good as new in a few days' time. 

Though Severus still worried, watching her carefully as she moved about the house like a ghost. As much as he wished to help her, he didn’t want to push her, so he simply watched and waited. He hoped that she would tell him what was wrong, when she was ready.

———————————

“Headmaster,” Hermione addressed him as she entered the man’s office.

“Yes, Madam Snape,” he asked.

Albus was curious why she had called the meeting merely three days after her unfortunate trip to the hospital wing. He had planned to give her at least another day and a half before approaching her with his request again, as the time would soon be upon them.

“I will do it,” she said simply, her face and tone an emotionless mask.

———————————

**March 16, 1996**

Severus laid upon the transfigured couch in his office, holding his wife tight against his chest as she slept. His teaching robes had been pulled across them to fight off the chill, but the fire in the hearth did most of the work, leaving the robes mostly as a cover for their nudity. While his hand brushed feather light across her back, he allowed his eyes to drift down her form.

His brow furrowed in concern as he noticed that she was looking quite thin and her long curly hair was more of a bushy mess than it had been in years. While he could attribute some of that to the vigerous shagging session they’d just engaged in, it seemed like more than just that. He worried that he was causing her too much stress, with the knowledge of his vow to Dumbledore, causing the weight loss, likely a lack of appetite, and unkempt appearance. However, there was not much he could do to help mitigate her fears.

He sighed heavily, causing her to stir lightly against his chest. Severus had come to cherish this time he had with her. She had assured him after the fourth night in a row of coming to him, that she’d found a way to trick the Marauder’s Map and conceal his office, making it always appear empty, helping relieve his mind of worries that they’d be caught, he had chosen to enjoy her. The couch in his office had become a permanent fixture in his office. Strong wards were always placed on the door, and after Minerva had popped her head in through the floo during their strenuous activities, he’d learned to temporarily disable access. As Minerva had been his mother-in-law for quite some time, and it was far from the first time she had stumbled upon them in a delicate state, the couple had simply laughed it off and went back to their coupling.

Severus had taken advantage of the ability to completely map her body in his mind again, loving bestowing kisses across her flesh. He had noticed that her body seemed more developed than he recalled as a teenager, showing more similarities to the way it had felt before she had left. Though, he just assumes that was a mixture of poor memories and the greater stress she had been under. It had become a mission of his though, to pay special attention to the large scar across her torso, showing her that it didn’t change the way he felt, and that he still found all of her enchanting.

“I should be getting back,” she murmured, rousing him from his thoughts.

“Indeed,” he agreed, disappointed at the thought of her going, but knowing it was likely for the best.

As they sat together and re-dressed, Severus felt compelled to keep his promises he’d made to her, to keep no more secrets.

“Draco has repaired the Vanishing Cabinet. It will only be a matter of time before they make a move on the Headmaster,” he explained calmly, as if discussing the weather.

“You remember the plan then?” She queried

They had spent a night in the comfort of each other's arms, hashing out a plan following the events, in order to best keep him safe and alive. He nodded in response.

“Yes. I will report to the Dark Lord following as expected. Minerva has reactivated the old wards on her home, and I will go there.”

“Good,” Hermione agreed. “No one will think to look for you at the home of an Order member.

“You’ll come to see me?” He asked, unsure of what he desired her response to be.

“Yes, I will come when things calm down here enough to get away,” she assured him, hugging him tight to her chest, one hand stroking through his long, black hair.

Voice painfully quiet, Severus buried his face into her chest before admitting, “There’s one more thing. It’s about Potter.”

Hermione just nodded, rocking him gently, a calm soothing motion.

“I know,” she responded.

Severus pulled back, looking up into sad, golden eyes, with tears swimming at the rim.

“W-w-what? How?” He stammered in shock.

“I know Harry’s a horcrux. He told us a couple weeks ago that horcruxes are what Dumbledore is hunting and how Riddle has survived. I’ve done the research, and the calculations, and just connected the dots,” Hermione admitted with a heavy sigh.

“Then you know that he has to …”

“Die. Yes,” she finished for him, shaking her head, struggling to maintain her calm. “I know.”

She had broken down and cried when she had put the pieces together. Sobbed for the little boy that had lost his parents, the child that had grown up in an abusive and neglectful home, and the young man that wouldn’t really get to experience adulthood. She had cried for the relationship he had just started with Ginny Weasley, and the love between them that would never reach its full potential. As well as the unfairness of it all and the cruelty of the world they lived in. Hermione had allowed herself an entire use of the turner, to grieve, so that she could approach the situation logically, though the tears still threatened to fall.

“Dumbledore insists that we have to wait until the very end, to tell the boy. That it must be the right time,” Severus replied, including her in the plan.

“He’s probably right. It’s best to wait for now. At the moment, there are already a lot of moving parts in play,” Hermione agreed. “But I really must go, my love. Stay safe, and I’ll see you soon.”

With that, she kissed him soundly on the lips, before casting her disillusionment and slipping out the door, back to her dorm.


	30. Betrayal

**June 15, 1997**

Draco had waited longer than anticipated to put his plan into action. Even though the vanishing cabinet had been prepared, the boy had clearly put thought into the assault. With a look-out stationed in Hogsmeade, the boy had waited until the Headmaster had left the grounds to summon his troops. Several Death Eaters waited impatiently with him inside the room of requirements for the signal.

Severus had convinced the boy of his desire to help, after having saved his life from Potter, and had been the first one notified, that it was the night. Now, he paced in his office, hoping that the young Malfoy heir could control his demented aunt long enough for the Headmaster to return. Gritting his teeth in frustration, he waited. The potential for student deaths were great, with the Dark Lord’s followers in the Castle, but lower if everyone waited for Dumbledore’s return. The Dark wizard remained on edge until the signal finally came.

Professor Flitwick barged into his office, alerting him to the presence of Death Eaters in the Castle. Snape’s wand was already drawn and the non-verbal stupify out before the diminutive professor could relay his message. Surprisingly though, he found Hermione and Luna Lovegood waiting outside his chambers. Muttering excuses about the Charm’s Master passing out, he brushed past them in the direction of the battle, silently warding and locking his office once they were inside. Hermione would be pissed at him, but it was worth the cost to keep her safe.

Once he neared the Astronomy Tower, the sounds of fighting became more prominent. Students and Order members were in the halls, fighting against the invading dark witches and wizards. Severus threw up several strong protection charms around the students, and a few stunners at the Death Eaters, when he thought he could do so, without getting caught. 

However, his focus was on the destination and the task he would have to complete. As he hurried to the tower, he tried to bring to mind all the things that Albus had done that had angered or enraged him. The killing curse was a powerful spell, but it also required powerful emotions to produce. 

Severus remembered the acute pain of watching his wife go from the woman he loved and shared a life with, to an eleven year old girl, just entering the wizarding world. He brought up memories of all the pain and humiliation that he’d been subjected to by Voldemort, since taking the Dark Mark at Albus’ urging. He thought about how the Headmaster played favorites among his Gryffindors, brushing off the fact that Severus and Hermione had almost fallen prey to Lupin in werewolf form. Anger bubbled, carefully concealed under his impassive mask. It had to be enough.

Before he knew it, Severus was standing atop the tower, staring down the Great Albus Dumbledore, while Death Eaters stood around watching, and Draco’s manufactured courage faltered. The old wizard looked small at that moment. His cursed hand blacked and withered by his side, the dark magic spreading through his aged body. Dumbledore seemed almost to waver as he stood, his skin pale and sickly looking and his usually glittering eyes dulled, the man almost on the verge of collapse. Albus was clearly in great pain.

All of Severus’ carefully built up rage dissipated, replaced with sympathy and pity for the old man. The ebony wand in his hand started to dip, as he lost his conviction for the deed. Bellatrix stood nearby, taunting both himself and Draco.

“Severus, please,” Albus whispered, begging the man.

Snape tried again, tried to build that bubbling, burning, red-hot rage for the man. Nothing came to him. And Albus seemed to see and understand what was happening. Surprise rushed through Snape, as the old man weakly pushed into his mind.

_ Do it, Severus. Kill me. You promised. You gave me your word _ , Dumbledore insisted inside his head.

_ I can’t _ , Snape admitted.  _ I cannot hate you _ . 

He could hear Dumbledore snarl in angry rage inside his mind. One the exterior, the both remained impassive. What felt like long agonizing minutes to them both, were but seconds to those looking on. 

_ You can and you will Severus _ , Albus declared.  _ I killed your child. Took a life created from you and your wife. _

Severus was momentarily shocked, but quickly recovered.  _ Lies Albus, there was never any ... _

However, Dumbledore pushed forward a memory before the Potion’s Master could finish his thought.

—————————

**August 26, 1991**

Albus bustled about his office, preparing the tea set for his guest’s soon arrival. Normally the old man would have had the House Elves attend to the service, but he had a job he needed to do today. The Headmaster had spent most of the summer trying to convince Hermione Snape that it was imperative that she live a life in the time she had left behind so many years before. Ever since the night that Lily and James Potter had been murdered, he knew what would have to happen.

September 1, 1991. The date had been burned into the old man’s mind as he’d puzzled after the arrival of the young woman for years. It was no mere coincidence that it also happened to be the date, that Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, would start at Hogwarts. Albus had heard the prophecy from Sybil, he knew that Voldemort would return. And he knew that there was something special about Hermione, felt that fate had placed her into his hands for a reason.

However, all of his planning was about to fall apart. When Hermione had visited him two weeks before so that he could once again sell her on the plan, he had felt a difference in her magic, from the moment she had walked through the door. Concern had risen in the Headmaster, that something was wrong, something that endangered his plans. A non-verbal diagnostic test was easy enough and within the spell, he saw what would be the downfall to his planning.

Hermione Snape, was pregnant. Roughly five to six weeks along by the numbers. Well early for her to most likely be aware of the situation. Still, Albus waited to see if she would reveal her condition during the meeting, then breathing a heavy sigh of relief as she said nothing.

But Albus was worried that all his planning and carefully manipulating of the pieces would all be for nothing. He knew the girl well enough to know that she wouldn’t willingly abort the child, or leave one. He had to act, and quickly at that.

Which was how he came to be making the tea. Shoving his hand, deep within the robe pockets, Albus fetched a pair of potions vials. The first was a shimmering, dark purple potion - Dreamless Sleep. He quickly dumped a half quarter measure in, enough to put her to sleep for a few hours, before stirring the cup. The potion had a lavender scent, which wasn’t hard to conceal. 

The second potion was alarmingly red in color, though also dull and lifeless - an abortifacient. This particular potion had no taste, but smelled strongly of wormwood and yarrow. Albus carefully and heavily dosed the tea with honey and lemon after mixing in the potion, hoping to hide the stronger scents. Taking a deep breath of the mixture himself, he was mostly satisfied that she would suspect nothing, before placing it under a warming charm. He then vanished the potion vials and sat down to wait, though she didn’t keep him waiting long.

“Come in Madam Snape,” Dumbledore addressed the knock at his door.

The young woman entered the room, taking the offered seat opposite Dumbledore, in front of the fire. The Headmaster politely offered her the prepared cup of tea from the plate.

“Punctual as always,” he admired, smiling kindly at her. “I took the liberty of preparing the tea for us, so that we might get to the point quicker, if that’s alright with you, my dear.”

“Of course Headmaster,” Hermione agreed, taking the offered cup.

She took a deep breath of the steaming liquid, smelling the overpowering lemon and honey within the mixture and not much else. Despite the fact that it was not likely made to get preferences, she sipped at the hot drink, not willing to upset the man sitting across from her. She was heavily leaning towards denying his request, having strongly mixed feelings about leaving Severus and her mum, while also believing she might be more helpful to the cause, with the full extent of her abilities. The last thing she wanted to do was put Albus on the defensive right off the bat. 

“Now, I was hoping that you might have some good news for me, regarding your decision,” Albus began, watching carefully as she continued to sip her drink. “ Do think that having you carefully positioned as Harry Potter’s friend could be endlessly helpful in the coming years. After all, this was the true timeline that you were supposed to be living.

“Then of course there is the matter of the prophecy, that we believe is in reference to you. It strongly points to the belief that you are instrumental in Potter’s ability to defeat Riddle,” Dumbledore continued to explain.

Hermione sat there, thoughtfully sipping at her tea as the Headmaster rehashed his explanation of the merits of his plan.

“Of course, Severus created and brewed the potion we would use, to perfection. So you need not have any concerns about things going wrong. We both know what a skilled Potion’s Master your husband is,” Dumbledore added, praising the young man.

It wasn’t long before Hermione started to feel odd. Her eyes started to droop and her body felt heavy, as if weighted down. The precise and logical mind she was known for, felt sluggish, and hard as she tried to fight it, it wasn’t long before she slumped into sleep in the Headmaster’s office.

Albus sighed in relief, once she had collapsed into the chair. Sitting back, he enjoyed his carefully prepared tea, while he waited. He had been quite heavy handed with the addition of the second potion, that was already known for it’s fast results, so he assumed he wouldn’t have to wait long. Within twenty minutes, the young witch was writing with pain, while still under the effects of the sleeping potion. He could see a large blood stain starting to spread across her robes, as the witch tumbled out of the chair and took the floor, her body unconsciously curling itself into a ball against the pain.

Calmly, Albus stood and crossed to his desk. Budget reports for the upcoming school year needed to be completed as the start of term would quickly be upon them. He wanted to wait to be sure that the potion was going to be effective before summoning Poppy to care for the girl, so he settled behind his desk, quill dipping in ink briefly before he carefully applied his signature to the pages.

In the back of his mind, he felt slightly uneasy with the girl unconscious on his floor. However, it was imperative that she agree with his plan. Prophecy stated that she would lead Harry to his eventual destiny. Riddle was a danger to both the Wizarding and Muggle worlds. Albus would do, whatever it took, to ensure the dark wizard was defeated and stayed that way. It was all for the greater good, after all.

Standing over the witch, after a period of time, Albus raised his wand.

“Obliviate.”

—————————

Severus gasped in shock at the vivid memory that was pressed upon his mind. He had been able to hear Dumbledore’s thoughts as it played through, could see, here, and smell through the wizard’s senses. He immediately knew which potions the Headmaster had used against his wife.

_ You see Severus, it’s true. Your child is dead, at my hands. It was the only way to get her to agree to my plan. The pain of the loss had helped to push her to find an escape from it all _ , Albus taunted with the little energy that remained in him.

For the old man’s plan to work, Snape had to find the anger to cast the spell, and Albus knew just how to fuel it.

_ It was for the greater good _ , he insisted. _What is the loss of a single life in order to save hundreds, maybe thousands in the grand scheme of things?_

Severus saw red, his mind finally catching up and realizing what the old man had done. He understood what Albus had stolen from him and his wife.

“Avada Kedavra,” Severus snarled, the sickly green light erupting from the tip of his wand.

Snape watched, emotionless, as the spell hit the old man in the chest. Dumbledore was dead, long before the spell propelled him backwards, off the top of the Astronomy Tower. Once cast, Severus felt sick and drained from the sheer power used to cast the spell. The information he’d received didn’t help the situation at all. He shoved it down as far as he could, putting up his defenses. Right now, it was time to get away from Hogwarts. Later, he would process his loss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, if you didn’t hate my Dumbledore already, I’m sure you do now. 
> 
> Sorry for any wording errors with the last couple chapters. My poor Hufflepuff husband couldn’t stomach this series of scenes.


	31. Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loving the feedback! Thanks everyone!

**June 18, 1997**

It had been several days since the murder of Albus Dumbledore and the school was still reeling from the shock. With the Headmaster dead, the Board of Governors had decided to send the students home for the year. Minerva McGonagall, as Deputy Head, had taken on the role of acting Headmistress, until the Governors appointed a permanent replacement. The Hogwarts express was scheduled to take students home in three days, giving the staff time to send letters home to the parents and arrange for children to be picked up outside of the normal schedule.

Hermione knew that she would be leaving on the Hogwarts Express with the others and heading to the Burrow, with even fewer opportunities to slip away. If she wanted to meet up with Severus, it would need to be today. Minerva had summoned her to the Headmistresses Office, as an excuse for her to get away.

“Hello, my dear,” Minerva greeted her wearily. “Go ahead and use the floo to go through, I’ll join you shortly.”

Hermione stepped into the green flames, announcing her destination, before stepping out into the familiar study at the McGonagall Home. Upon hearing the floo activate, Severus stormed into the room. Black orbs scanned the room quickly before falling on the young witch, glaring into her honey colored eyes.

“You were pregnant?” He snarled.

Hermione gasped, tears instantly filling her eyes. Severus took that as a yes, his rage building stronger than ever, the dark magic still flowing through his body. She had been struggling with those memories as they had surfaced over the last year, trying to bury the pain deep enough that she could keep up the pretense of Hermione Granger, and here it lay bare before her.

“Who told you?” She asked quietly.

Instantly, she could tell that was the wrong response.

“Who told me? Why didn’t you tell me? Why did I have to find out from Dumbledore?” Severus yelled.

“I didn’t want to hurt you. Knowing that our baby was gone was killing me. I couldn’t bear the pain. And I didn’t want you to have to go through that alone,” Hermione admitted.

“Alone?” He asked, but the answer dawned on him before she could respond. “You had already decided to leave me?”

She winced at the hurt and the brokenness in his voice. Hermione could argue all she wanted that she hadn’t chosen to leave him, but that was how it had felt to him.

“Dumbledore had already asked me to consider it. I agreed after that. I couldn’t deal with the pain and Albus told me that the miscarriage was a side effect of the circumstances. My body was weakening and my magic fluctuated wildly. He said that was why I had lost the baby. I couldn’t stand it being my fault because I didn’t want to believe it or leave you. It was just too hard to live with” Hermione explained, sobs wracking her body.

Rage surged through the man again, however this time, it wasn’t directed at his wife, but at the manipulative old bastard. Setting aside his residual anger at Hermione, he knelt in front of his sobbing witch.

“Dumbledore killed our baby,” Severus whispered, clasping her hands in his.

“Oh my,” Minerva explained from the door.

Neither of them had noticed the floo flaring to life, announcing her arrival. She had just finished up at Hogwarts and had flooed to her home to help check on her son-in-law. The noise and the flames had cleared, just before Severus’ declaration. The older witch stumbled over and collapsed into one of the chairs by the fire, staggered by the information.

Hermione looked up into Severus’ dark eyes, looking for an explanation.

“He showed me before I killed him. He used it to push me over the edge,” he explained.

“How?” She whispered.

“He poisoned you. Dreamless sleep and the aborficient in your tea. He knew that you would deny him if you found out you were pregnant,” Severus explained.

Hermione felt her heart breaking again as he spoke, the loss of their child sharp and fresh. However, with it came the realization that it hadn’t been her fault. Her child had been murdered. Hermione considered it lucky that Dumbledore was already dead, as the intense rage needed to cast the darkest of spells flooded her body.

With every word he spoke, his anger dulling into pain as he realized that she had been manipulated, like everyone else that had ever interacted with the old bastard.

“I killed him in anger,” Severus admitted, slumping further to the floor, his head in Hermione’s lap.

Instantly, the young witch understood, feeling for her husband, who felt like his soul was damaged. The dark magic just encouraged those thoughts.

“It was a mercy killing, my love,” she told him. “We all know he was dying and the curse would have been an excruciating end.”

“But I killed him in anger,” Severus explained. “I didn’t care that he was dying anyway or easing his suffering. It wasn’t the manufacturer anger I had anticipated. After what he showed me, I wanted to kill him. I wanted him to pay for killing our child.”

“We all knew that you would need the anger to fuel the spell. He was trying to anger you. He knew you were too good of a person to do it. Despite all he has asked of you and all he has put us through, he had to know you weren’t capable of the depth of emotion required. True anger and hatred was needed to fuel the spell, so he gave it to you. Your soul will heal with time,” Hermione assured him.

She had doubted his ability to power the spell properly, after all the research she had done in the last year. While they had touched on the immense energy required for the Unforgivable Curses as kids, neither had delved too deeply into the spells. With Death Eaters surrounding him, she had hoped he would manage, or select a different spell for the job instead, without endangering himself too much. It didn’t exactly surprise her that Dumbledore had been able to inspire strong enough feelings in Severus.

“I wouldn’t have given him the nice, easy death after that. I’d have ripped the monster limb from limb and I’m sure my soul would forgive me after everything that old bastard has done,” Minerva exclaimed.

Hermione stopped running her hands through her husband’s hair and kissing the back of his head to look up at her mother in shock. The older witch was sitting in the chair, her face contorted in a snarl. Hermione just simply shared a look with her mother and nodded in agreement.

“You could have told me. You should have told me,” Severus insisted, discussing the pregnancy and miscarriage again.

Hermione’s attention turned back to her husband, the pain in his endless eyes evident.

“You should have told both of us. And you never should have left us in the first place,” Minerva declared. “We would have helped you though it. Though, we all know that if you had continued to resist, Ablus would have found other ways to manipulate you. That man and his insistence that everything he did was for the greater good. In my opinion, the greater good doesn’t involve killing babies and leaving children in abusive homes.”

“Speaking of Potter, the old man had a point there. That boy would have been dead long ago without you,” Severus told Hermione. “Though, if he ever kisses you again, I’ll hex him.”

Hermione gasped in shock, unaware that her husband had seen that little moment, despite having caught up on their various adventures while apart. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, the idea of her kissing Harry ever again hilarious, but the open wound of the child she lost, still bleeding freely.

Severus’ dark eyes simply took in her mixed expression before he pulled her tight into his arms, rocking her gently. Feeling the safety and comfort of his embrace, Hermione broke down again, tears streaming down her face as she sobbed into his arms. She could hear him sniffle, as he shed his own tears for the loss. He had been right, Hermione had to admit. It would have been better if she had told him. Though she hated that she shared the pain with him, it felt lighter, knowing that she wasn’t the only one that was mourning the loss of their child. That it was no longer her alone that carried the weight of the child that never had the chance to be.

——————

Several hours later, Hermione woke in the comfort of her husband’s arms, in the room that was considered ‘theirs’ at her mother’s home. Shocked, she bolted upright, having been gone much longer than anticipated. Severus pulled her back down to the bed, settling her against his chest.

“Easy, dear,” he whispered softly. “Minerva has made excuses for you tonight. We’ll send you back to Hogwarts in the morning for the funeral.”

She just nodded into his chest, settling back against him. Listening to the beat of his heart in his chest and feeling his chest expand as he breathed. She felt the sudden need to be closer to him, despite the pain and anger of the outside world, she needed him to help her forget everything, if even only for a few moments.

Leaning up, she laid open mouthed kisses along the length of his neck, while her hand reached to unbutton his long sleeved shirt.

Severus moaned deep in his chest. “What can I do for you Hermione?”

“I need you, Severus,” was all she responded, but it was enough for him.

Laying his hands at her waist, he feathered soft touches at the skin there before grabbing the hem of her shirt and yanking it up over her head. She sat atop of him and reached behind her, expertly shucking her bra. Severus threaded the button of his trousers and shoved them and his boxers down to his ankles in one go, while she rolled off him to do the same, both frantically shedding their clothes.

Severus rolled over her, leaning in to kiss her soundly. Her mouth opened up to him and he plunged in, tangling his tongue with hers. Reaching down, he took her breast into his hand, rolling the hardened nipple between his fingers. Hermione was frantic to have him inside her however, palming his rigid cock and lining it up with her core. With a thrust of her hips he was seated within her hot, wet channel. They both moaned in pleasure as he started moving within her.

Their coupling was rapid, as the both quickly reached their peak and toppled over. Exhausted from the trials of the previous few days, they fell into a deep sleep together, each feeling safe and loved in each other's arms, as if the world outside had slipped away. It was only an hour later that they awoke however. Knowing time was limited, they needed to talk.

“Was anyone hurt during the attack?” Severus asked quietly.

“Greyback got to Bill Weasley. Wounds were pretty bad, but the moon wasn’t full, so he should be alright. Neville and Filius took some spell damage, but nothing that couldn’t be fixed up quickly enough,” Hermione explained.

“Filius? But he was locked in my office with you?” Severus demanded.

“You didn’t honestly think that those flimsy wards would keep me put, did you Severus?” She smirked.

“Didn’t hurt to try,” she heard him mutter.

“And Voldemort?” She asked.

“He will take the Ministry before the end of the summer. He recruited Umbridge to run his Muggle-Born Registration department,” Snape answered.

“I should have killed that vile, fucking bitch when I had the chance,” Hermione muttered.

“Yes, dear,” Severus placated her. “And if you had been yourself at that time, I’m sure you would have. Don’t think I didn’t notice that Miss Granger shared your violent tendencies. You ruined a perfectly good pair of teaching robes in your first year.”

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she defended herself, “l prefer protective instincts.”

“I’m to become Headmaster of Hogwarts next year,” Snape added. “Though I’m sure that was part of Dumbledore’s master plan.”

“Dumbledore’s set Harry on the trail of the horcruxes. He believes there are seven, less the two already destroyed. Even if we would be welcomed back at Hogwarts next year, he’s going to be going after them. Ronald and I will be with him. The boys have no idea what they are getting themselves into.”

“Seven, Merlin, that beast’s depravity knows no bounds,” Snape swore.

“The horcrux Dumbledore was after on the night he died turned out to be a fake. Clearly one of his own had turned against him from the letter they found,” Hermione informed him.

While she knew Dumbledore was always careful with information around Severus, since he was constantly around Riddle, but she had no such reservations. She had grown up with the man and knew the power and the strength of his skills.

“A fake? Letter?”

“Yes, something about Voldemort meeting his match and trying to destroy the real horcrux. It was signed by R.A.B. and addressed to the Dark Lord, so I assume it was one of his own,” Hermione told him.

“Regulus.”

Hermione gasped in shock, sitting up to look down into his black eyes.

“Oh, I haven’t thought of him in years,” Hermione lamented. “It makes sense though. We both know he was wavering before he disappeared.”

“Yes. He wanted out and I was trying to arrange a meeting with Dumbledore. I told him not to do anything rash,” Snape muttered, pain in his eyes.

“I guess we’ll have to plan on stopping by Grimmauld Place for information. We cannot know if he was successful in destroying the object and with all the dark magic in that home, it doesn’t surprise me that it didn’t stand out in all the time we were there before.”

“Ask the elf. Reg did always have an unusual bond with the creature, for a pureblood. I obviously cannot be seen looking into any of this,” he told her, regrettably. 

Sighing heavily, he sat up next to her, gently gripping her shoulders, “I need you to be careful. I cannot lose you again.”

Reaching up to cup his cheek, fingers stroking across his jaw, “You too. You’re in a precarious position as well. Stay safe and come back to me at the end of all this.”

“As you order ma’am,” he smirked at her. “Oh, before you go.” 

Summoning his frock coat to himself, he reached into one of the pockets, sinking up to his arm. She smiled at him and made a mental note to put an undetectable extension charm on one of her bags, it would make packing the essentials for them easier. Within a moment, he produced three vials of a shimmering green liquid.

“Anti-venom, specifically keyed to Nagini. I produced it after Arthur was attacked. In case it’s necessary,” he insisted, passing her the vials.

“This isn’t all you have, is it?”

“No, I carry several vials on my person for myself as well. I just wanted to make sure you had it. We might not see each other for a while after tonight,” he assured her.

“I should get going,” she sighed heavily. “Excuses or not, the boys will be worrying about me.”

She tossed her legs over the edge of the bed, tucking the vials into her pocket. Before she could stand, a large hand on her shoulder, stopped her, and she looked back at him.

“Are you alright? With everything from before?” He asked gently, but didn’t dare say the words.

“I don’t really have a choice, now do I?” She answered sadly. “It’ll have to wait until I can deal with it. For now, we have work to do.” 

Severus nodded, then seemed to remember something else. Reaching to the breast pocket of his coat, he tenderly produced a small silver circlet. Twisting it over in his hands several times, he stared down at it before reaching out to take her left hand in his own. Reverently, he slid the ring back to it’s home on her ring finger, before softly whispering a glamor charm over it. The ring disappeared from sight, but she could still feel the metal against her hand, warm from his hands.

Tears welled in her eyes as she leaned forward to kiss him tenderly, before taking her leave. Standing at the doorway, she watched him, laying there on the bed. She knew if she didn’t leave soon, she never would, so she smiled at him, before she strode through the study, flooing back to Hogwarts before she could change her mind.

—————————

**June 1978**

Hermione paced back in fourth in the classroom off the entry hall, that had been repurposed into a dressing room for this special day. Merlin, her stomach was tied up in knots as time slowly slid by her. Her long white gown trailed behind her slightly. Lily and Alice sat in chairs near-by, watching her restlessness with amusement. When there came a knock on the door, Hermione had marched across the room and thrown it open, the surprised face of her mother greeting her.

“Ready?” Minerva asked with a grin.

“Past ready,” Hermione returned with a smile.

“She’s been half-tempted to blow the doors off and storm out there to be with him for the last fifteen minutes,” Lily replied with a smirk.

“I wouldn’t want to stand between this witch and her wizard any day,” Alice chimed him.

Hermione smirked at her friends and stuck her tongue out at them, before facing her mother again.

“Let’s go then,” Minerva said, before taking Hermione’s hand and leading her down onto the shores of the Black Lake where everyone was waiting.

When they reached the assembled crowd, she anxiously stood upon her toes, trying to get any glimpse of him that she could, but the crowd on their feet blocked her view. Minerva put a hand on her shoulder, gently pressing her back down to the ground.

“Patience, my girl,” the older witch whispered, kissing her cheek gently.

It wasn’t long before it was time, and Minerva led her to the opening in the crowd. As soon as they turned down the aisle, she saw him. Her knees went weak as she gazed upon him, standing tall, in his formal black dress robes, his long dark hair pulled back loosely at the nape of his neck. Even from here, she could see the sparkle in his dark eyes, and as they turned on her, a huge smile lit up for her.

Minerva not only steadied her with a hand at her elbow, but also slowed her, as she practically tried to run down the aisle towards him. Even as she tried to patiently walk towards him, it seemed like forever when they had finally closed the distance. She couldn’t help, but chuckle at her mother’s threat, but once she stood before him and held his hands in her own, nothing else mattered.

—————————

**July 31, 1997**

Hermione smiled as they sat together, watching the wedding of Bill and Fleur, and she couldn’t help but think back to her own wedding day. Her wedding to Severus had also been in a time of darkness and uncertainty, with Voldemort on the rise for the first time, so she understood the urgency and desire this couple had to be wed.

After the ceremony, the reception was held in the large tent the Weasleys had erected in the yard of the Burrow. Laughter and smiles, dancing and jokes. Hermione had settled herself at a table in the back, her small, beaded bag tucked safely against her side. After returning from her visit with Severus, she had cast the charm upon the bag, alongside a featherlight charm. For weeks, she had been packing away things that they might need on their journey. She turned back each night and set up in the shed brewing every kind of potion she thought they might need, having raided ingredients from the greenhouses of Hogwarts and outer edges of the Forbidden Forest before leaving the school. Canned food supplies were hoarded away as she appearated to London in the dead of the night to twenty-four hour supermarkets. The Weasley’s magical tent had slid in beside her dozens of books on every subject imaginable. She’d raided Arthur’s shed and the attic, ignoring the ghoul. Hermione hoped that they wouldn’t need even a fraction of what she had squirreled away, but it didn’t hurt to be prepared.

Right now, she was curiously examining the copy of the Tales of Beedle the Bard that Dumbledore had left to her. It was an old favorite of hers, in the original ancient runes. Her own copy had been the first book she’d completely translated in her third year Ancient Runes class. This copy was older, perhaps Dumbledore’s own from his school days.

She quietly tucked the book away in her bag as Remus sat down beside her. Silently she cringed, as she’d been pointedly avoiding the werewolf since she had gotten her memories back. They had been such close friends, that she was sure that he would see through her act. While it wasn’t quite as dangerous now that Dumbledore was gone, it was an added complication she had wanted to avoid. The worn werewolf smiled as he glanced at her.

“Nose in a book at a party, Hermione, some things never change, do they,” Lupin said.

She just chuckled softly, but something caught his attention. The werewolf subtly sniffed the air, eyes widening as he looked at her more closely. His pale grey eyes narrowed as he really looked at her.

“Or perhaps some things do change,” he muttered, a frown crossing his features.

Her stomach turned just then, and she closed her eyes briefly to fight back the wave of nausea. The beautiful dress she had selected for the event, felt too tight and uncomfortable. She decided that the heat, noise and crowded tent seemed to be getting to her. 

“I’m sorry Remus, but I’m going to step out for a breath of air,” she excused herself, not wanting to continue the conversation with the man at that point. 

Quickly, she stood and made her way out into the night. The light night breeze felt good against her skin, though the night was still warm. After a couple of deep breaths in the night air, she felt the nausea recede.

It wasn’t long since she had exited the tent before she saw a brilliant flash of white light streak across the sky, arching down through the fabric and into the tent. Instantly, she knew it was a patronus. As Hermione quickly ducked back in, she caught the tail end of the message, recognizing Kingsley’s voice and lynx. It was time.

Chaos broke out at the party as guests started to panic, rushing in all directions. Hermione pushed through the crowd, making her way towards the boys as quickly as she could. Within moments, Death Eaters had started to appear. Wands out, curses and hexes started flying in all directions, flashes of magic lighting up the tent, that was quickly becoming a tattered mess.

Within moments, Hermione had downed two opponents and could finally see the boys. Remus was herding them towards her now. Spells flew, and she watched as a slicing hex landed across Lupin’s shoulder, just as he had shoved the boys into her arms.

“Get out of here,” he shouted at them.

Hermione had already started her apparition, one hand clasped around each of the boy’s wrists as they disappeared into the night.

  
  



	32. The Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, slowing down a bit, but still chugging away. Here’s the next chapter!

**August 13, 1997**

It had been two weeks since she and the boys had fled to Grimmauld Place following the fall of the Ministry of Magic. Upon arrival, as they had swept through the house, making sure they were truly alone, it had been Ronald that had noticed the room belonging to Regulus Black. He quickly had connected the dots with R.A.B., saving her from coming up with her own excuses for figuring it out. Since then, they had been waiting for Kretcher to track down Mundungus.

The weeks had been rough for Hermione. Her stomach simply refused to settle and food revolted her, causing her to merely push her food around on her plate to appease the boys. Neither, thankfully, seemed to find it very odd that she passed on her share of cooking duties, preferring to bury herself in the library. Additionally, she found that her energy was completely drained, almost constantly. More often than not, she had been using the time-turner, and sleeping the extra hours away, rather than more productive uses. Instead, she was making her way through the Black Family Library at a fraction or the pace she normally would have, often finding herself falling asleep in the books.

The negative effects didn’t concern her mind very much, as she remembered acutely, some very similar feelings after her third year, when she’d had to give the time-turner back. These symptoms matched some of the withdrawal symptoms from then, and she just assumed that she had been severely overusing the device. As far as she knew, no one had ever dared to use the time-turner as much as she had, and for all she knew, the effects she was feeling were normal.

However, during her third turn back during the evening, Hermione had taken time out to grab a shower, hoping the hot water would help wake her up a bit, so that she might make more progress on the library. She sighed in appreciation as the hot water pelted across her back and accumulated in her thick hair, the warmth sinking deep into her aching body.

With a thick dollop, of body wash, lathered in her hands, she started at her neck. Her lithe fingers rubbed at the knots at the base of her neck, attempting to work them out, though they were painful to the touch. Hands continued to trail down her body, spreading the soap across her shoulders and then latering her breasts. When she reached that point, she gasped in shock as her breasts protested the treatment, even as gentle as she had been. 

With a mix of curiosity and concern, she looked down at her chest. Palming the underside of her own breast, she gently lifted it. She observed that her breasts were fuller than they had been, the last she’d paid any attention to her body. As she looked, a milky, white drop of liquid began to bead at the tip of her nipple. Scooping up the drop with her finger, she examined the liquid, her mind working overtime to try and put the pieces together of something that felt like it should be obvious.

A moment later, she gasped in shock. _ No, she couldn’t be, _ her mind insisted. _ This wasn’t happening now. _

She fumbled with the taps as she turned the water off and practically jumped out of the shower. The vinewood wand, laid by the sink where she had left it. Not even bothering with a towel, she snatched up the wand, saying the familiar incantation. When the tip of her wand lit up with a bright, white light.

Hermione sunk to the cool tile floor of the bathroom, breaking out into big gasping sobs. Her heart felt like it was being ripped from her chest and shredded to ribbons before her very eyes.

_ She couldn’t be pregnant now. It was the wrong time _ , her mind insisted. _ She couldn’t care for the child now. She couldn’t do this without Severus! They were supposed to do this together. While the world was mostly safe enough to bring a small child into it. Not now, while she could barely keep herself and the boys alive. _

Her mind started running through the ingredients she would need for the abortifacient. She only got halfway through the recipe when she expelled the meager contents of her stomach across the bathroom floor. Hermione was sure that she couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t be able to survive losing another child that way, wouldn’t be able to make and take the potion at all.

Slowly, she took several deep breaths, holding the air in her lungs for a few moments each time in order to help calm herself down. With a flick of her wand, she vanished the pile of vomit. Standing, she looked hard in the full length mirror along the wall.

She was quite thin already, but it didn’t surprise her, considering she hadn’t been eating. Her ribs were visible and sticking out against her flesh. However, she could obviously see that her breasts were quite a bit bigger than they had been, and a fairly defined bump was visible across her lower belly, despite her hip bones sticking out slightly. Hermione shook her head, wondering why she hadn’t seen the signs before.

Mentally, she started to work the math backwards in her head. She’d last been with Severus on June 18th, just a few days after Dumbledore’s death. Before that, they had been careful, but on that night, she had needed him so badly and her mind had been so overwhelmed, that they had forgotten.. That would only put her at about eight weeks along in her pregnancy, but her body was clearly of the opinion that she was further along. It took a moment, before she started swearing.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Hermione muttered.

The time turner. She had been turning back almost every night, at least three to five times. Especially in the last few weeks, she had been turning back more frequently, as she’d spent more time sleeping. Quickly doing the equations in her mind, she estimated that instead of the eight weeks of time in the real world, her baby was closer to twenty-four weeks of development. 

Swearing, she realized that she was further along than any wizarding abortifacients were designed to handle. Had she had the stomach to do what felt like the necessary thing, she likely would have been risking her life as well.

“Fuck,” Hermione swore again, her mind racing as she tried to figure out what she was going to do.

Faintly, she heard the sound of scuffling from downstairs, before Harry’s voice calling her name.

“Fuck!”

Quickly, she dressed, now able to see the bump more defined through her clothing. She placed a quick glamor spell upon her person, hiding the new developments from view. Only when she was satisfied that they wouldn’t suspect, despite how oblivious the boys tended to be, did she emerge from the bathroom and make her way to the kitchen.

As she pushed open the door to the kitchen, she saw Harry and Ron standing there, talking to Dobby, while Kreacher was still clinging to a very annoyed Mundungus. It seemed like things were finally moving along as they anticipated.

“Fuck,” she muttered softly, apperantly unable to catch a break.

* * *

**August 15, 1997**

Hermione subtly pulled her wand from her robes as Harry and Ron stepped into the courtroom, their polyjuice appearances still in place. Umbridge was still badgering the muggle-born woman sitting in the chair in the middle of the room. The Slytherin Amulet hanging from around her neck. It had taken quite a bit of restraint to not hex the woman the moment she saw her in the elevator, but another two wizards had boarded quickly behind her. 

Now, with the boys in the room, they could at least stand a chance at the other Ministry Officials observing the proceedings.

“Stupify,” Hermione cast, the dark red streak of magic hitting the horrid woman in the back.

She was thankful the boys had been prepared as well, their own offensive spells taking out another two combatants. Hermione leaned forward and ripped the locket from Umbridge’s neck, before making a rush for the exit. Streaks of magic soared around her and she ducked her head as she ran.

Once with Harry and Ron, they as a group ran for it. However, Hermione screamed in pain as an intense slicing hex cut across her back. Ron grabbed her around the waist to help keep her going, while Harry cast over his shoulder, barely missing Yaxley as he chased after them.

They received a brief reprieve as they hit the elevators, anxiously waiting to reach the main floor. Their polyjuice had started to wear off, placing them back in their own bodies by the time that they had reached the atrium.

As they darted from the elevator car, another slicing hex landed across Harry’s shoulder. Yaxley’s car had landed moments after theirs had, the snarling Death Eater chasing them towards the floos. With blood still spilling down her back from the wound, Hermione started to slow, the world spinning slightly in her vision. Ron kept his hold on her, but she was slowing him down.

However, they were so close to the floos now. Reaching back, Harry grabbed hold of Ron, calling out for Grimmauld Place, as the energy of the floo sucked them in. Unfortunately, Yaxley had gained enough ground on them to latch on to Hermione’s leg as they were swept away by the magic.

Swearing soundly, despite her weakness, Hermione immediately called out another destination, just as they landed at Grimmauld, the magic of the activated floo sweeping them away again. By the time they landed in the large fireplace in the study at McGonagall Manor, they were all dizzy from the trip, landing on the floor in a jumbled heap.

Despite the weakness, Hermione, being the most aware of the danger, was on her feet, wand in hand in a blink. Yaxley, while disoriented after being dragged through two floo trips, was up next, sending a purple hex at them. Hermione quickly summoned a protego to block the spell.

“Stupify,” Hermione cast.

Unfortunately, Yaxley dodged, shooting his own red stunner across the room, hitting Ron as the boy tried to get to his feet. Hermione snarled in frustration, knowing the longer this went on, the worse their chances of success would be. Yaxley was well known for his abilities as a fighter, whereas Hermione was weakening fast. Grim determination across her features, she cast fast.

Yaxley blocked the stunner, incarcerous, and disarming spells she had thrown his way, but was a moment too late to counter the sickly green light that slammed into his face, the man’s lifeless body flopping to the floor. Once the man was down, Hermione’s remaining energy fled and she started to collapse, but Harry was able to catch her, lowering her to the ground slowly. Turning her on her side, he observed the damage.

“Hermione, can you hear me? How can I help? What do I need to do?” He asked her frantically

“Dittany. Bag,” was all she could force out.

Familiar with the potion from his time in the hospital wing, Harry summoned the vial from her bag, before opening it and allowing drops to fall across her opened wound. Hermione screamed in pain as the potion burned, stretching and knitting the skin back together. When the pain had finally still, the world spun and then went black for the young witch.

* * *

It was several hours later when Hermione regained consciousness. Sitting up on the sofa she’d been moved to, she looked out into the familiar room. Ron was sitting in one of the chairs, an apple he’d likely pilfered from the kitchen, in one hand. Harry was sitting with his back to her, staring into the flames, the slice on his shoulder mended, likely with the dittany as well.

“Oi, Mione’s awake,” Ron announced as he saw her sitting.

Harry quickly stood and knelt next to her.

“You alright?” The boy asked gently.

“I will be,” Hermione acknowledged, stretching some and feeling the uncomfortable pull of the freshly healed skin at her back.

Thankfully, she acknowledged that she didn’t feel pain elsewhere. The back wound had likely been mostly superficial despite the blood loss. She would wait until she was alone to check on the child she carried. She growled in frustration though, wondering how she was supposed to help Harry find and defeat the horcruxes without putting herself and her child in danger.

“Uhm, Hermione, where are we?” Harry asked awkwardly.

“Oh,” she answered, not sure how to explain things. “Well, Yaxley had grabbed hold of me, so Grimmauld was compromised. So, I brought us here.”

“Where is here?” Ron asked.

Before Hermione could answer, the flames in the fireplace turned green, and Minerva McGonagall stepped through into the study.

“Oh, Mister Potter,” Minerva greeted. “How?”

The older witch asked, before she saw past the young boy, to the witch laying out on the sofa, the tattered shirt on her frame covered in blood, while there was a pool of dried blood on the carpet.

“Hermione, my dear, what happened?” Minerva exclaimed, crossing the room and ignoring Potter as she approached her daughter.

Wand in the air, Minvera began casting diagnostic spells, checking on the status of the girl. However, reading the results, the woman gasped in shock, her eyes darting to connect with Hermione’s, as the younger witch grabbed her hand.

“I’m fine, mum,” Hermione assured her, forgetting the boys in the room. “I’ll explain later.”

“Mum?” Ronald exclaimed in shock.

“What’s going on here?” Harry demanded.

“Mind yourself, Mister Potter,” Minerva scolded the boy. “Go into the kitchen and find yourself and Mister Weasley something to eat. I need to speak to Hermione. We will join you briefly.”

Harry looked like he was going to protest, but Ron had grabbed his arm and tugged him along. Once the room was clear, Minerva had placed a privacy ward around the room. Sitting on the edge of the couch, she looked at her daughter expectantly.

“We had to escape the Ministry quite quickly and gained a hitchhiker,” Hermione explained, glancing to the corner of the room, where Yaxley had fallen. “Grimmauld didn’t have quite the same protections we have here, and I feared others would be able to trace it through the floo trip. So, I brought us here.”

Minerva gasped in surprise, not having seen the body when she’d arrived. However, with a quick flick of her wand, she’d transfigured the dead man into a single bone, before banishing it.

“And about …” Minerva faltered, her eyes flicking to the young witches stomach.

“Ah. That’s a little more complicated,” Hermione hedged.

“Severus is the father,” McGonagall asked.

“Of course,” Hermione insisted, glaring at her mother. “We were, uh, otherwise preoccupied after Dumbledore’s death. And well.”

“That’s not possible, the diagnostic said …”

“Uhm, I might have stolen a time turner and been using it frequently,” the witch admitted, avoiding eye contact like a scolded child.

“How? They were all destroyed …”

“When we infiltrated the Department of Mysteries in fifth year. I pocketed the only unbroken device. I’ve been using it for additional research time, for this impossible task, Dumbledore has left to Harry.

“We needed a safe place. The options were to floo here, or to quickly aparate away. With the baby, I wasn’t going to risk the latter.”

“What do you intend to do about it?” Minerva asked.

“I don’t know yet, but the boys need me. They won’t be able to do this without me,” Hermione insisted.

“You’ll stay here. With the wards and protections we have built up over the years, it is one of the safest places, aside from your own home.”

Hermione sighed, “We cannot just sit around and wait. We have a job to do.”

“And you can help the boys from here. Your body and magic are going to be weaker as you grow this child. You’re no use to those two if you’re dead,” Minerva declared, anger crossing her face. “And you’ll not be putting my grandchild in danger.”

“Riddle is hunting down, imprisoning, and killing Muggle-Borns. We cannot just sit here and wait it out,” Hermione argued.

“You will, or I will summon Severus and the two of us will ward the place heavily enough to keep you here,” Minerva declared, raising her wand, ready to send her patronus. “Your word, my dear.”

“Okay. You cannot summon him though. We cannot put him in danger. You have my word, that I will stay.”

“Well then, we should go fill in the boys before Potter loses his patience and storms back in here,” Minerva explained, helping her daughter to her feet.

Hermione’s world spun around her and her stomach turned briefly, before things settled some. However, with her mother’s arm at her shoulder, she was carefully escorted into the kitchen. As they entered the room, Harry was sullenly sitting at the table, staring into the dark wood, while Ron leaned against the counter, munching on the apple in his hand. As they entered, Minerva held up a hand to stop his immediate response. She ushered Hermione into a chair at the end of the table and snapped her finger. A small house elf in a uniform bearing the Hogwarts crest appeared in the kitchen.

“Toppy, if you wouldn’t mind, some tea and sandwiches please,” Minerva requested kindly.

The elf simply nodded and set about the kitchen, the various bits and bobs floating through the air, as the tea was prepared.

“Now, Mister Potter, please remain seated and we will explain,” Minerva assured, seating herself next to Hermione. “But first, tea and something to eat. You all look like you’re about to keel over.”

The tea service floated to the table before them, and the elf disappeared back to Hogwarts. Minerva quickly made Hermione a cup of tear, to her preferences and placed a turkey sandwich in front of the girl. While Potter grudgingly prepared a cup of tea and Weasley took a seat, piling his plate high with sandwiches, already halfway through devouring one.

Hermione grimaced and pushed the sandwich away, though she took small sips of the tea, sighing in contentment as it warmed her inside. Minerva simply pushed the plate back in front of her.

“Mr. Weasley, do remember to chew and swallow your food, please.”

“Enough, why are you here Professor?” Harry demanded.

“Why, because this is my home, Potter,” Minerva explained. “My wards alerted me when you arrived via floo. I assumed it was Hermione arriving, which is why I did not arrive immediately.”

“But why did Hermione bring us here?” Impatience laced his tone.

“Enough Potter. I will explain, but you will not interrupt me, is that clear,” McGonagall asked, her tone the same she used when teaching.

“Yes, Professor,” Harry muttered in annoyance.

“Now, it would be best if we started at the beginning. In 1971, on September 1st, we had a magical inconsistency with the Book of Acceptance, which lists magical children upon their birth. It is what we use to send out school letters and for the list for the sorting ceremony. However, that evening, a new name had appeared on the list.

“The girl was sorted that night, but when we spoke to her the next morning, we found that she had somehow traveled through time, the acceptance letter she had provided us with, bearing the date: September 1, 1991. As her parents didn’t exist at that time, I adopted her.

“The reason Hermione brought you here, is because this is also her home. She has been my daughter since that day,” Minerva explained, taking a brief breath.

“So, what? She just pretended to be a student? Faked being my friend?” Harry asked, pushing himself to a standing position in his anger.

“Harry, no! It was never like that,” Hermione insisted.

“Potter, what did I say about interrupting? No, Dumbledore in his infinite wisdom,” she said, voice heavy with sarcasm, “insisted that Hermione de-age and have her memories locked away, on September 1st, of 1991, so that she would grow up in the timeline she was originally supposed to live. So, we faked the death of my daughter, and Miss Granger started Hogwarts with only the memories and magical ability she had when she arrived in 1971.”

“I only regained my memories after the battle at the Department of Mysteries. The curse damage was so great, that my magic broke free of the memory charm. The magic of a full grown witch or wizard is greater than that of a child. I only survived because of my magic,” Hermione tried to explain.

“So, you’ve only been lying to me for over a year, is that supposed to make it better?” Harry snarled.

“I wasn’t hiding from you Harry. I was hiding from Dumbledore,” she told him.

“Albus Dumbledore was convinced of another prophecy, one that spoke of Hermione,” Minerva answered. “Though he never deemed to share the information of the prophecy while he lived, he used it to coerce Hermione into his plan in the first place. We hid the return of her memories to keep him from insisting they be locked back away.”

“And since his death, you have been going through so much. I didn’t want to hurt you, Harry,” Hermione insisted. “But, when Yaxley followed us through the floo, I just needed to get us somewhere safe.”

“But Yaxley, you killed him,” Ron added in, sounding sick at the prospect.

Hermione snarled in annoyance at that, “Which is nowhere near as bad as what he would have done to us given the chance.”

“I don’t even know who you are anymore,” Harry declared.

“She's your godmother, Potter. I’d show a little more respect,” a silky voice announced, causing everyone in the room to turn suddenly towards the doorway.

Severus Snape leaned against the door frame, his posture relatively relaxed, wand in his hand. Harry was the first to jump to his feet, drawing his wand, with Ronald mere moments behind him.

“Stupify,” Harry shouted.

Severus deftly reflected the spell.

“Wand down, Potter,” Minerva insisted.

“Harry stop it,” Hermione cried out.

“Expelliarmus,” Harry tried.

Once again, Severus repelled the spell.

“I would listen to them, Mister Potter, or you won’t like the results,” Snape smirked.

Still, Harry fought. “Sectumsempra.”

“Stupify,” Hermione cried, watching Harry crash to the floor, before turning her wand on Ron. “Put it down Ron.”

The red-head backed up, keeping his wand between him and the others in the room.

“Mister Weasley, put it down, and we can explain calmly,” Minerva assured him.

“I’d rather you explain now, I think,” Ronald hedged.

“Then I only wish to do this once,” Minerva insisted, turning her wand on Potter. “Incarcerous. Rennervate.”

Harry Potter, regained consciousness, finding himself bound in a chair in the kitchen. Ron had his wand out and had backed himself in a corner. Then, he turned his gaze again on Snape, snarling in anger.

“Murderer,” Harry shouted.

“Calm yourself Mister Potter, or I will silence you,” McGonagall stated.

Hermione winced from where she stood, wand drawn and still pointed at Ron. This was going a lot worse than she had even considered that it might.

“No, Severus Snape is not a murderer or a traitor. Albus Dumbledore was dying and demanded a vow from Severus, that he would kill him, before the curse did, cementing his place at Riddle’s side.”

“Liar,” Harry declared.

However, Ronald waivered, the tip or his wand dropping slightly.

“Would I stand here defending this man if it were a lie, Mister Potter?” Minerva insisted.

“It’s true Harry. Please, just think about it. Dumbledore’s hand. He was weakening, dying already,” Hermione explained.

By that time, the red-head had lowered his wand, cautiously moving back towards the table to take a seat. Harry however, had stilled. The anger in him insisted that he still fight, but the young boy, eager to learn magic listened. He remembered the first day at Hogwarts, when Hermione had found him awake in the common room, just as eager and excited as he was. She’d been there through him and saved his life numerous times throughout the years.

Afterall, she was right. He’d observed the blackened hand of the Headmaster when he’d been recruited to convince Slughorn to come back to Hogwarts. And the night that they had gone to the cave, he’d kept hinting that his life was less valuable. The last order Dumbledore had even given to him, in fact, was to summon and trust Snape.

“Alright, just untie me,” Harry muttered.

Minerva went ahead and ended the spell on the boy, while Hermione rushed to where Severus still stood in the doorway. He braced as she threw herself at him, sweeping her up into his arms.

“I’ve missed you,” she declared, quietly.

“And I you,” he announced.

“Severus, why exactly did you know to come here,” Minerva asked.

“I’m also attuned to the wards, as you recall. When the Castle alerted me that you had left the grounds, I thought I might be needed. I can as soon as I could get away unseen,” he answered calmly, escorting Hermione back to a chair at the table, and taking a seat beside her.

“Hey, wut did you mean, she’s his godmother,” Ron asked suddenly.

“Oh,” Hermione gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. “Harry, 1971 was the same year your parents started at Hogwarts. I was good friends with your mum.”

Harry was unusually quiet for a time, his mind both trying to absorb all the information, and remember what he knew about his parents at the same time. After a while, he spoke again, his voice soft and quiet.

“Why didn’t you want me?”

“”What?” Hermione asked, not sure that she’d heard him correctly.

“I mean, with my parents dead. I know Sirius was in Azkaban, so he couldn’t take me, but why didn’t you want me? If you’re my godmother, I would have gone to live with you. If you’d wanted me,” Harry asked, his green eyes filled with tears as he looked up at her.

“Oh Harry,” she choked out, tears streaming down her face.

“Dumbledore had James and Lily sign over the rights to your care to him. With the war raging around us, I can only guess, that they wanted to insure your safety in the worst case, as all of us were in grave danger. He used that power to declared that you would live with your Aunt and Uncle,” Severus explained. “We wanted you to stay with us.”

Harry looked to Minerva, who nodded her head sadly, verifying for the boy, that what the dark wizard had said was true.

“What do you mean, ‘us’,” Ron asked. 

“Uhm, Severus is my husband,” Hermione explained, wincing at the looks of shock on the boys' faces. “We went to school together as well.”

Ron Weasley looked fairly green. “Married to that git. You’re old enough to be my mum.”

“She changed your diapers, boy,” Minerva defended.

“And that ‘git’ is my husband, so I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t speak badly about him,” Hermione declared, a dark look on her face. “But yes, Ronald. I did try to deter your affection. I’m sorry.”

“I think I need to lay down,” Ron muttered.

“Come Mister Weasley, let’s get you to a bed before you collapse,” Minera stood and said, escorting him out of the room.

The remaining three sat in silence for a time. After a few minutes, Severus had reached across to hold her hand in his, causing Hermione to smile softly at him. They both waited for Harry to resume the conversation.

“So, you both knew my parents. What were they like?” Harry asked eventually.

Hermione smiled at him. “Well, Severus knew your mother the longest. They grew up just down the street from each other.”

Harry looked up expectantly, startling slightly when the dark Potion’s Master actually smiled at him, before launching into the story about how he met Lily. Part of the way through, Minerva wandered back in and made eye contact with Hermione, raising an eyebrow at the young woman in a silent question. Hermione shook her head no, before turning her attention back to her husband’s story. Minerva joined them and the stories flowed as the three took turns talking about the Potters and their Hogwarts days.

“You should probably get some sleep, Mister Potter,” Minerva suggested as it got later.

Harry stood and made to follow his professor, but stopped in the doorway, turning to look back at the couple sitting at the table.

“Your, eh, quite different, sir,” he said to his least favorite professor.

“Well, Mister Potter, there are several reasons for that. The main one being that I had a part to play, that, if I failed to convencingly do so, would result in torture and/or death, when Riddle enevitably returned.The second being, that unfortunatly, I couldn’t help but transfer some of my resentment at being seperated from my wife to you. Then of course, all the trouble you got her into, and it was much easier to play my role and hate you. I am sorry though, that the circumstances were so,” Severus offered.

Harry thought about that for a moment, then nodded his head, as if agreeing, before he replied, “I’m sorry too, sir.”

The boy made to leave, but then turned around again, clearly more he needed to say. “You’re different too, Hermione. This last year, yeah, a bit, now that I think about it, but also right now. You seem happier. With him.”

“Good night Harry,” Hermione declared, smiling at the boy. “Tomorrow, we’ll start planning our next move, but for now, sleep. You better go catch up with Minerva.”

“Good night,” he replied, before hurrying down the hall, where his professor waited for him, an amused expression on her usually stern face.

Once alone in the kitchen, Hermione turned to Severus.

“You shouldn’t have risked coming. Won’t you be missed at the Castle with the term starting soon?” She asked.

“Not yet,” Severus replied. “I’m meant to be there preparing, but the Carrow siblings, who Voldemort has assigned to the Castle to fill empty teaching slots, and keep an eye on me, will not arrive until the day before term. Right now, they are off on some other assignment.

Snape lifted his hand to cup her face, brushing his fingers across her cheek, before admitting, “I’m glad to see you safe. I’ve been worried about you.”

“And I you,” she replied, leaning into his touch and closing her eyes.

From the doorway, Minerva cleared her throat, letting the couple know she had returned.

“The boys settled in?” Hermione asked.

“Yes. Mister Weasley was still looking quite green when he settled in. Potter seemed in a much better mood than earlier,” the older witch replied.

“Serves Weasley right, eying my wife,” Severus declared.

“I only have eyes for you, my love,” Hermione answered, trying to settle her husband’s ruffled feathers.

“And have you told Severus yet?” Minerva inquired.

“Told me what?” Snape asked.

Groaning in frustration, Hermione could tell that her mother wasn’t going to let her do this on her own timeline. Though, to be fair, she was sorely tempted not to burden him with the information, and her mother likely knew that. Sheepishly, she looked down, avoiding his intense, inquiring gaze.

Gently, Severus placed two fingers under her chin, lifting her face to meet his.

“Tell me what, Hermione?” He asked, trapping her in his stare.

“I’m pregnant,” she admitted softly.

Afraid of what he might think, or how he might react, she cast her eyes downward. However, she had not expected him to lean in and capture her lips in a passionate kiss, pulling her into her into her lap. 

Minerva cleared her throat again, before announcing, “I’m going to retire as well. Good night, you two.”

Neither of them bothered to reply, or even indicate that they heard the witch, and Minerva left the kitchen with a grin on her face. Especially in dark times, happy news was needed.

The pair only surfaced when the need to breathe became urgent. It was obviously that it was getting quite late, from the sky outside the windows, so gently, Severus lifted her from his lap and stood, before leading them to their room. Silently, the couple changed and climbed into bed together, Hermione curling into her husband’s side. Severus softly held her to him, filled to the brim with questions, but letting the comfortable silence hold. Letting her glamors drop, Hermione silently grabbed his hand, moving it to lay gently over the swell of her lower abdomen. That seemed to break the silence, as Severus pulled back to look down at her.

“How far along?” He asked, looking at her curiously.

She assumed he had also done the math as well, realizing that they had been careless only that one night. Hermione cringed under his questioning look.

“In real time, only eight weeks. But, I’ve, uhm, been using a time turner, so developmentally, closer to twenty-four,” she admitted, ready for his anger.

“Oh, Hermione,” he murmured sadly, burying his face in her shoulder. 

They had spoken before on this subject. He knew just how much she had struggled with her addiction to the time turner, much as he had struggled with alcohol. Severus knew that she expected him to scold her, but that wouldn’t really help. She needed his help and understanding, not his anger. So, instead, he simply held her to him.

“I am happy for this child, Hermione,” he assured her. “Yes, the timing is not ideal, and our current circumstances are dire, but this is still a good thing. This is what we wanted for so long. Whatever happens, we will figure this out. Together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the great comments! My husband accuses me of being as sublte as a brick through a window, and I can only accept that, as it seems to transfer over to my writing, as many of you picked up on the pregnancy right away!


	33. So Everyone Knows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy another one and apologies again, I just can keep this too myself!
> 
> Thanks for all the comments!

**August 14, 1997**

It had been a restless night for Harry, as he had tossed and turned, his mind turning over all the information he’d been given the day before. He couldn’t help but wonder how different his life would have been, if Dumbldore had not stepped in and placed him with the Dursleys. It was a hard thing to imagine, since he’s only ever known Hermione as his brilliant friend, Snape as the fierce and unfair teacher, and McGonagall as the strict Deputy Headmistress. These were people that had been in his life, but were nothing like he expected them to be, having seen sides of them Harry hadn’t realized existed until the night before. Laying in the comfortable bed, the room decorated in Gryffindor color, he wondered if they had lived here today. Though, he quickly dismissed the idea, thinking it was far too much Gryffindor and not enough Slytherin for Professor Snape, who, despite his demeanor, was known for his House Spirit.

With a wry smile, thinking about Professor Snape head to toe in Gryffindor red and gold, Harry rolled out of bed to prepare for the day. Looking around, he noticed a set of his clean clothes was folded on the dresser. Within moments, he was dressed, and not bothering to try and tame his hair, he made his way along the path he’d made the night before, to the kitchen.

It was well before dawn, so Harry considered that he might be the only one awake at this time. However, as he entered the kitchen, it was clear that he was not. On the stove too, several skillets sat under slightly visible bubbles that gave off what looked like heat waves.

Scrambled eyes, sausages, and bacon were cooked up in the pans. A karaffe under the same treatment helps what smelled like fresh brewed coffee. Harry’s mouth watered and stomach growled, but he looked around the kitchen for whoever had woken before him. Just as he’d moved to peak into the empty study, he heard a familiar voice from behind him.

“Go ahead, Potter. Breakfast is for everyone,” Severus assured him.

Spinning on the spot, Harry expected the tall, dark Potion’s Master to be looming over him, but was once again rewarded with an empty kitchen. Green eyes scanned the doorways into the large kitchen and dining area, wondering where the voice had come from. There was only one door, semi-closed, the others open and allowing him to peer into the room beyond. Quietly, he approached the partially closed door, gently pushing it open enough for him to peer in.

“In, or out, Potter. And keep the door mostly closed. Temperature and lighting are critical factors for this brew,” Severus explained, not bothering to look up from his cauldron.

Harry quickly pushed through and shut the door behind him. Taking a moment, he looked around the room, which seemed odd, when compared to the rest of the home, which had been decorated to feel bright, light, and airy. This small room had the same heavy stone walls that the potion’s classroom in Hogwarts, several low-flickering torches providing light.

“Minerva allowed me to magically add it on to the house when I started my Potion’s Mastery. Even though I was living at Hogwarts during the weeks, I was here during the weekends, and often needed to still focus on my work. It conveniently helped at the height of the First War, when Hermione and I were brewing potions non-stop,” Severus explained.

“What? How?,” Harry sputtered, not having actually asked the question on his mind.

“You broadcast your thoughts frequently, Potter. Mainly curiosities shout out the loudest. You’ve obviously abandoned practicing your Occulency,” Snape answered, though his tone was more neutral than disappointed. “Though, Hermione likely would have been a better teacher. The mind arts have taken on a more traumatic role in my life after taking the mark. I should have practiced more restraint when teaching you, but unfortunately, what is done, is done.”

Harry’s head was spinning. Twice in two days, he’d received what had effectively counted as an apology from the stern man. However, he had another question he was bursting to ask.

“Sir, I uhm, was wondering. Um, what made you join the Death Eaters?”

Severus sighed heavily. “That is not an easy or a short story to tell, Potter. Go on back to the kitchen and get some breakfast. I’ll join you in a few minutes when this potion has finished.”

Harry was standing at the stove top, still filling up his plate, when Severus stepped into the kitchen, shutting the door to the small lab behind him.

“Would you like a plate sir,” Harry asked.

“No thanks, I ate after I cooked,” Snape answered.

Though, the older man did step up to the counter and pour himself a cup of coffee. Harry was simply staring at the man in shock, a piece of bacon hanging from his fork between the pan and his plate.

“I am human, Mister Potter. Though I spend a lot of time at Hogwarts, I do know how to cook. I even enjoy it, sometimes,” Severus admitted with a smirk, before moving to take a seat at the table.

“Oh, yeah, I guess it’s hard to imagine teachers are real people, sometimes,” Harry shrugged, but then quickly added, “sir.”

“You can dispense with the honorifics in familiar company Potter. I’m not your teacher here. You can call me Severus, or Snape, whichever you are most comfortable with,” Severus offered.

“Ah, yes, sir … uhm, I mean, Severus,” Harry said, his face going a bit red, the unfamiliar name feeling blocky in his mouth. But the boy offered, “And you could call me, Harry.”

Severus cleared his throat uncomfortably, but hid it by bringing his coffee cup to his mouth. Harry had dropped his eyes to his breakfast, enjoying the hot, crisp bacon. For a time, silence reigned at the table. It wasn’t until after Severus had returned from filling his cup again, that he started speaking.

“You’ll likely be aware, Harry, that most of your mother’s friends were Grffyndors like herself. The Marauders, as they called themselves, Frank & Alice Longbottom, and of course, Hermione. In the first couple of years, we tried to maintain our friendship, but your father and his friends tormented me, because I was a Slytherin and I dared to interact with a Gryffindor.

“Hermione and I became good friends in our first year as well. She was a determined little witch, insisting on sitting next to me one day in Potions Class, and ignoring my attempts to chase her away. It turned out that we had a common enemy, as your father and Sirius often picked on her mercilessly as well. She had this ease about her, that showed no outward concern for their actions, but the glint in her eyes promised retribution. It was an awe inspiring thing to behold,” Severus admitted.

Harry chuckled, “Yeah, Ron, said it best in our first year.

“You’re a little scary sometimes, you know. Brilliant, but scary,” Harry mimicked the large red head. 

Severus chuckled softly. “So very true. We became fast friends. Everything about her drew me in. Your mother stayed friends, but had developed a relationship with other girls in her dorm and was more comfortable fitting in with the group, than being the outcast that Hermione and myself were considered.

“Not that I blame here. Before and after we met, her sister, Petunia, bullied her constantly about being different. Freak was a word she heard often, so in a world where she was no longer the odd-one-out, she just wanted to fit in. As for Hermione, she simply didn’t seem to care. It wasn’t that the acts didn’t bother her, but she simply resolved to let it be and strike when the time was right.

“My childhood, however, wasn’t great, to put it mildly. Like Lily, I wanted desperately to fit in, but I didn’t find that with my housemates or with Lily. But Hermione accepted me, almost aggressively, taking more offence to my being tormented than her own. In Hermione, I found a friend that made me feel all the things I craved from my family. I felt cared for and important. She made me a priority in her life. And I dare say, even then, she loved me in a way.

“She considered me an equal in all things, welcomed me in her life, and even sought me out. She even stood by me when I showed her my secret. My mother, the typical Slytherin, had hidden several books on the dark arts away in her school trunk, which I pilfered before going to Hogwarts. The books helped me feel in control during a time in my life when I had none. It’s easy to be pulled into the draw of the darkness.

“When I showed your mother, Lily was uncomfortable, and the information caused our friendship to fracture some. Hermione however, didn’t even blink before diving into the new texts, the books simply a path to more knowledge, neither light nor dark. We spoke at length on the texts, and more we’d found in the restricted section. 

“It was Hermione that helped me draw some important connections. She showed me how the appearance and feeling of being powerful and in-control of one’s life, was based inside the person themselves. The use of dark spells simply gave the temporary appearance of power and control. The magic itself feeds on those needs, provides a little bit at a time. The more a witch or wizard uses dark spells, the more often they need to use, to gain that feeling at all. It becomes an addiction that feeds off the magic and the lifeforce of the caster, the more they feed the addiction. And like any addiction, it can be hard to break the habit after a while.

“But sir, what does this have to do with your mark?” Harry asked, somewhat lost.

“Everything. Hermione is likely the only reason I didn’t take the mark on my own accord back then. Because of her, I stayed neutral in Slytherin house. Everyone knew how much I dispised James and Sirius, but I hadn’t run with the crowd that were being marked immediately after Graduation. 

“I joined the Order, of all things, with Hermione, and we were in charge mostly of keeping the potion supplies stocked. Hermione also did a lot of healing when people came back wounded. And for a time, the Order was losing, Death Eaters were killing our own at an alarming rate. We knew there was a leak, we just didn’t know who. It became clear, that we needed a spy in Riddle’s ranks. As the only Slytherin, not only in the Order, but willing to even admit sympathetic thoughts towards the light, I was the obvious choice. Especilly to your father and Sirius.

“Hermione resisted and insisted that it was too dangerous, that they’d need to find someone else, but I bowed down to Dumbledore’s manipulations. Riddle was keen to get his hand’s on me. I was well known for my potion making skills to the other Slytherin and was apprenticing under Slughorn, prepared to take his teaching post when I finished my mastery.

It didn’t take long. Lucius Malfoy introduced me, and on that very first night, I was marked,” Severus finished explaining.

“That’s a big asks, but then again, that my experience with war so far I guess. A lot of people asking an awful lot of you. But why did Vol-,” Harry started to asked.

“NOO!” Severus roared, rearing to up to his full height and towering over the boy.

Harry was shocked into silence, hand automatically reaching for his wand. The raised voice brought the others stumbling down the hallway, with wands raised. Minerva and Hermione looked at Severus in concern, while Ron was still half-asleep, wand held in front of him. 

“I’m sorry to have startled everyone. We cannot use that name,” Severus explained, a pained look of severe exhaustion crossing his face.

“Why? Dumbledore never feared to say his name,” Harry glared.

“True, but the Dark Lord, has succeded at placing a taboo upon his chosen name, essentially summoning his followers. While I’m sure the defenses of this home would prevent them from gaining entry immediately, they would then know it was here. As a potental hiding place for you, Harry, Riddle himself would come dismantal the wards if he had too. Personally, I would much rather not the first, true loving home I had, and all it’s memories, burnt to the ground,” Severus responded.

Harry just nodded and relaxed back into his chair.

“Well, if that’s all, I suppose I should get dressed,” Minerva insisted, her night robe wrapped tightly around her.

Hermione just smiled and padded into the kitchen, in an overly large t-shirt and pajama pants, before leaning comfortably into her husband’s side. Severus pulled her into his body and gently kissed her head.

“Did you sleep alright?” He murmured.

“Better than I have in a while,” she replied with a smile.

“Sit, I’ll bring you some breakfast,” he said, pulling out a chair for her, before turning to address the red-head, “Weasley, I assume you are capable of serving yourself.”

The groggy red-headed young man had collapsed into a chair at Harry’s side and promptly laid his head on the table to fall back asleep. However, the mention of food had him up and at the stove top in an instant, shoveling eggs and meats onto a plate. 

Severus set to work fixing a plate for Hermione, with small portions. With a wave of his hand, a glass floated down from the cupboard and a jug of pumpkin juice emerged from the cooler, settling in front of the witch. The plated floated over to set down in front of her as well, while Severus refilled his coffee again.

When he sat back down beside her, he received a glare, as she first eyed the glass of pumpkin juice, then his steaming cup of coffee. He just smirked back at her and took a long drink of the rich black liquid. Leaning into her ear, he placed a kiss on the sensitive skin on her neck.

“Caffeine is bad for the baby,” he whispered softly, a smirk still on his face.

“Ugh, come on,” Ronald exclaimed in disgust, “some of us are trying to eat here.”

Hermione just chuckled at her friend’s discomfort before picking up her fork, and gingerly sampling a bite of eggs. They ate in silence for a time, Hermione only able to manage a few bites. 

“So why did Riddle want you so badly? There must have been others good at potions.”

“Others on the islands were passable at potions, a few within his ranks. I was well-known in my last couple of years at Hogwarts for creative spell craft and potion making. It was my work that unfortunatly created things like the potion in the cave and the spellwork for the taboo. I stalled as long as I could on each creation, but Dumbledore always insisted that my keeping my cover was the most important thing.”

It wasn’t long before Minerva returned, ready for the day, and made herself a plate of food. The older witch gently squeezed Severus’ shoulder as she passed him, thanking the wizard for making breakfast for everyone. Mere moments after she had sat down at the table, the entire group could hear the floo flare to life in the study.

“Minerva?” Remus called as he stepped out of the flames. “Are you here?”

“In the kitchen, Remus,” Minerva replied.

Severus had been up and out of his chair the moment the flames had flared, his wand in hand. While he was sure that only those given permission could access the home via the floo network, he was still being hunted for Albus’ murder. Torn between fleeing from his old friend or standing his ground, the decision was take out of his hands, as the werewolf appeared in the doorway.

“Wand away Severus,” Remus insisted, watching his friend with open amusement. “We’re all friends here.”

“Last I heard, most of the Order was hunting me, looking for justice,” Severus shrugged, still wary.

“A farce for your master,” Remus chuckled. “Everyone from the first war knows you were never willingly a Death Eater, my friend. Even Moody, as jumpy as he got around anyone with a Dark Mark - as if the damn things burned him - was sure of your innocence after Dumbledore’s death.”

Snape breathed a sigh of relief, followed by a frown of concern, as he settled back into his chair.

“This is the worst kept secret, and likely to get me killed,” he muttered.

“Not on my watch, love,” Hermione assured him.

“Ah, good to see the real Hermione back,” Remus rejoiced, pulling the witch up into a hug. “I suspected at the wedding, what, with the baby and all.”

Hermione gasped in surprise.

“How?” She whispered.

Behind her, the boys were speaking over each other, demanding to know what was going on. Severus had just laid his head on the table in defeat, but Minerva was smirking like the cat that got the cream, and shushed the boys.

“Your scent and your magic have changed. As a werewolf, I’m highly sensitive to both. Severus’ scent on you was subtle then, but I was sure I could detect it. Congratulations by the way,” Remus explained.

“Well, possibly the worst time in the world to have a baby,” Hermione muttered sadly, her hands moving to settle across the bump.

“I share your frustration,” Remus bemoaned. “Dora is expecting as well. It’s quite early. And she’s quite annoyed that she’s out of the fighting for now.”

“I know how she feels,” Hermione assured him, casting a slight glare in her mother’s direction.

“Hang on,” Harry insisted, raising his voice. “What do you mean a baby?”

“Well, Harry, when a witch and a wizarc love each other very much …” Hermione joked, trying to lighten the situation. “In all seriousness, I’m pregnant. I’m still going to help you finish this, but I'll be on the sidelines for a while.”

His green eyes lit up in excitement, “I’m going to be an Uncle?”

“And a godfather, to my child, if you’re willing to be,” Remus added.

The boy just stared in wonder, nodding his head, excited at the prospect of having more family, despite the dire conditions they found themselves in.

Severus stood, sharing a look with his wife, who smiled and nodded. “And you, Remus, my friend, will you be godfather to my child. I need to know they’ll be safe if the worst comes to pass with all of this.”

“Of course, my friend. I would be honored,” Remus accepted. Then he chuckled. “Though the Snape offspring is likely to be a complete terror and trouble maker. I still can’t believe Hermione set your robes on fire.”

“Oh, I can. My witch is well known for going to extraordinary lengths for people she cares about,” Severus chuckled.

“As much fun as talking about me is, we should really get down to business,” Hermione said sadly.

The two wizards agreed and took a seat at the table. Hermione reached into the beaded bag, she always carried on her person, and pulled the Slytherin Locket from within, laying it on the table. Instantly, Harry’s face changed to one of discomfort and concern, the horcrux obviously calling out to him.

Remus could feel the evil intentions coming off the small piece of jewelry in waves, but knew nothing of the magic. Sniffing the air lightly, he could smell the others around him, but the pungent stink of death hung heavy in the air.

“What is that?” Remus asked, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

“A horcrux. Dark soul magic objects that are formed by splitting apart the soul, through murder, and storing a piece of it in an object,” Severus responded.

“We learned from Dumbledore last year, that these horcruxes are how Riddle is keeping himself alive, how he was able to come back. We believe that he made seven of these objects. So far, two have been destroyed, and this one in our possession,” Hermione explained.

“That leaves four more, and we’re not sure what objects he used for the others,” Harry muttered angrily.

“I have some thoughts on that, but first we need to figure out how to destroy them, starting with this one,” Hermione insisted.

“I highly doubt a basic Reducto would do the job,” Remus shrugged.

“Well, I killed the diary with the basilisk fang, in the Chamber of Secrets,” Harry offered helpfully. 

“Basilisk venom is one of the most deadly substances. Unfortunately, Riddle insisted that the remains of his creature be harvested for his uses, the moment he took control of the school. Dolohov was put in charge of the harvesting. I assume he’d believe, that as a Slytherin and Potion’s Master, that I might be tempted to keep some of the ingredients for my own research and uses,” Severus sighed in annoyance.

“That’s probably why Dumbledore tried to leave you the Sword of Gryffindor, Harry,” Hermione offered. The boy’s looked at her with confusion, before continuing, “The sword is goblin-made. As such, it only takes into itself what makes it stronger. When you killed the basilisk, it likely absorbed the venom. I’d bet it was what Dumbledore used to destroy the ring.”

“Only after the old fool put the damn thing on and cursed himself,” Severus growled. 

“So where is the Sword?” Harry asked. “That sounds like the easiest solution.”

“In Bellatrix Lestrange’s vault at Gringotts. I’m starting to think that Riddle knows that you’re hunting down the bits of his soul,” Severus mused.

“Well, if the two known choices for destroying horcruxes are out of our reach, what is left? What other items or spells could do the trick?” Remus asked.

They all sat in contemplative silence for a time, before Severus caught his wife’s eye. He could see the gears turning in her head and the slightly concerning, mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Why do I get the feeling that I won’t like what you’re thinking, love?” Severus asked, watching her closely.

“Because you simply know me too well,” Hermione chuckled, smirking at him.

“What is it?” Harry asked impatiently.

“Fiendfyre,” Hermione answered calmly.

“Godric and Merlin, Hermione, are you wanting to roast us all alive?” Remus swore. “Conjuring it’s easy, but I’ve only known of two wizards that can control it. Without that control, it usually burns and spreads until it consumes the caster that, by that point has lost control. After the caster’s death, it can still burn and spread like a normal fire, and can still be abnormally difficult to contain.”

“Who?” Ron asked.

“Dumbledore and Riddle,” Remus explained.

“You can do it, can’t you Hermione?” Severus asked with a hint of wonder in his voice.

“I believe I can,” Hermione confirmed. “I haven’t tried, but I know the principles behind the magic and it’s fight for dominance with the caster.”

“Before we even consider trying,” Minerva insisted, “you need to explain. I’ll not risk losing you to this. If we cannot do it safely, then we’ll find another way.”

Hermione cleared her throat and sat straighter, both Minerva and Severus recognizing her entering her teacher lecturing mode.

“Fiendfyre is a spell that conjures a sentient being of fire. The danger in the spell, is that, since it is sentient, the caster and the flame creature essentially battle for complete control. If the caster wavers at all, the flame creature can easily take over, it’s very nature destruction. While the caster is in control, the flames do their bidding, however, while the flames are in control, it simply spreads as quickly as possible, creating as much damage as it can. Eventually, it would consume it’s caster, essentially cutting off it’s magical source. At that point, the flames become normal flames again - able to be combated with water - however, usually it has already burned so high, hot, and aggressively, that it would take several powerful wizards to control, or it would need to be allowed to burn itself down to a more manageable level,” Hermione explained.

“That’s madness,” Ron muttered. “Who in their right mind would make a spell like that?”

“Dalmaric the Dunce, sometime in the 1400’s, I believe. The first time he cast the spell, he lost control of the fire and it consumed him. It’s said that he was responsible for the Second Great Fire of Amsterdam,” Hermione explained.

“It’s considered a dark spell because of the lives it has taken, including casters, as well as the misunderstanding that it takes dark intent to cast. In reality, it just requires strong, powerful, commanding intent. I believe with strong love and the powerful resolve to do good, be good, and accomplish good, that the Fiendfyre would take on a much different appearance while also being less destructive as a whole.”

“It makes sense,” Severus mused. “Dark intent is much more chaotic, destructive, and often sadistic. The sentient fire would reflect those traits, making it more difficult to control. Good intentions, with a specific purpose in mind, would conjure a purpose oriented sentient being, making it easier to control as long as their purposes stay aligned.”

“That’s phenomenal,” Remus muttered. “Merlin, have I missed being able to pick your brain on academic matters like these.”

“I think it could be done, but I still don’t like it,” Severus insisted, leveling a look at his wife. “Since your the most knowledgeable on the subject, it makes sense that you perform the spell, but I don’t like putting you and our child at risk.”

“Would you rather attempt to break into Gringotts to retrieve the sword?” Hermione asked sweetly, smirking at him.

“Sassy, witch,” he muttered darkly, black-eyes sinking with amusement and desire for his extraordinary woman. 

“Well, if you two are done flirting,” Remus laughed. “When and where do we do this?”

“The plateau at the edge of the property,” Minerva responded softly. “A little close to our home, but it’s a location we can control, with some of its own protections against the fire spreading, should the worst come to pass.”

“I insist we wait several days. While the wound you sustained at the Ministry is closed up, it’s still a drain on your body’s resources while it fully heals. I won’t have you trying this without being as close to perfect health as possible,” Severus told her sternly.

Hermione looked briefly like she was going to fight him on that point, until Minvera spoke up.

“I completely agree with Severus. I don’t like you putting yourself in such danger, but since it is necessary, I agree that you should rest and recover before trying it.”

“Fine,” she agreed with annoyance. Grabbing the locket and tucking it back into the abyss that was her beaded bag, “We’ll wait a few days before trying to destroy it.”


	34. Date With A Healer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies! I started remodeling my bathroom, which lead to taking down other walls in my house. Funny what my brain decides to do to elude depression.
> 
> Updates will be slow until I can get the remodel finished.
> 
> As always, enjoy and thanks for reading! And let me know what yall think! 😊

**August 17, 1997**

Severus and Minerva had been back and forth to the Castle over the last several days, working to make sure everything was prepared for the incoming students. 

Minerva had been tasked with sending letters to the parents of all current or incoming muggle-born students warning of the political climate and alerting them that the school would not be a safe or welcome place for them during the coming year. Additionally, it was recommended that if they had family or friends on the continent, that they take an extended vacation. As a last resort, the Order had been setting up several safe houses over the summer, to protect some. Order members were delivering the letters secretly, to as many as they could, and offering assistance. 

Both Severus and Minerva had visited the several properties that Albus had owned, which had magically transformed into her care after the old wizard’s death. They had reinforced the wards and made the locations secret kept. These houses were being used to keep as many as they could safe until things could hopefully be resolved.

The reports coming in from the Order members was grim news however. It had seemed that already, for every letter they successfully delivered, there was one undeliverable. In some locations, a struggle had clearly taken place, sometimes the home burned down. Muggle Police reports were recovered, frequently citing the death of the whole family. In only two instances so far, the child had survived, having been away from the home at the time of the attack. These children had been collected from the muggle social services and taken to a safe house.

And for every family they contacted, they received resistance, especially in the first year muggle-borns. Parents refused to go into hiding based on what sounded like made up stories about a world they didn’t understand.

Despite the combined frustration, they had managed to get four families to safety, with the two orphaned children. Another five families had fled to different parts of the continent.

Severus spent a good amount of his time attempting to prepare the school. Portraits were all alerted to the coming changes, sworn to silence, but also oaths to watch and report the happenings of the school to himself or Minerva immediately. They were also instructed to help the other teaching staff to safeguard the children, and hinder any efforts of the Carrow siblings. The ghosts had also been rounded up and similarly briefed. As Headmaster, he had the power and control to compel their silence, though most would have likely agreed to help protect the school without the oaths. Special instruction was given to Peeves, that it was open season on the Carrows and that his job in the coming year was to make their lives hell. The poltergeist had gleefully agreed and sped away to destroy their living chambers and classrooms, readying a proper welcome for when the siblings arrived right before term.

The staff of the school had remained apart from the Order for the most of it. Much of his teachers resented him, making out to be the bad guy. And the more they hated and resented him, the less likely his cover would be blown. Even Minerva argued with him at every moment to help maintain his role. The final nail in the coffin so to speak, was the list of dark spells for each of the main courses, to work into their lesson plans. The staff room had broken out in a thunderous round of complaints.

“I cannot teach this!”

“This list is long enough it means at least one dark lesson a week.”

“This is outrageous!”

“This is not up for debate!” Severus growled. “I will monitor your progress with updating lesson plans and help where needed.”

“But this …” Pomona started to argue again.

“Enough. Anyone who does not comply will be released from their role as a professor at this school,” Snape snarled.

* * *

Snape was also liberally harvesting from the greenhouses and the forest for ingredients, taking them back to the McGonagall home, where Hermione had been furiously brewing day and night, much like she had during the first war. He had insisted that she not brew anything with potentially poisonous ingredients, or stages that were particularly dangerous. Of course, she had argued with him at first, insisting that Severus was too busy to brew the Wolfsbane for Remus. He’d simply assured her that he would take care of it, sternly instructing Hermione that she was not to overdo it and put herself and the baby in unnecessary harm. The witch had eventually conceded, but it had been a hard fought battle, that required him to enlist the aid of Minerva and Remus to convince the woman.

It was late in the afternoon, and Severus was preparing to leave the castle. They were preparing to destroy the horcrux in the next couple of days and trying to figure out what the other objects were.

After his most recent meeting with Riddle that morning, Severus was sure that the snake, Nagini, was likely one of the horcruxes they were looking for. The dark, heavy, death filled stench that had assaulted his senses in the presence of the locket, hung around the snake. His chest was heavy with pain, that he couldn’t save Charity Burbage. The witch and Hermione had been casual friends at the school in the old days. The thought of announcing her death to the others weighed heavily on him. 

Now, Severus was seriously considering cancelling the elective classes for the coming years. Riddle would likely make the new “Muggle Studies” class a mandatory one anyway, but if he could get several of the other staff into hiding before the term started, some lives might be saved. Professor Babbling and her muggle-born husband had already fled to the states, leaving the Ancient Runes position empty and the class likely canceled. He would have to speak with Minerva. It would be a hard fought battle to get Hooch, Vector, and Sinistra out of the Castle, but they might do more good protecting the safehouses. And Severus desperately needed Trelawney out of the way, otherwise he was likely to strangle the witch, with the already dozen times she had sought him out to tell him that he was in great danger. 

Silently, he stalked into the Hospital Wing, slamming the doors shut behind him, after confirming there was only one other person with him in the ward. Minerva would be arriving at the home tomorrow to throw off suspicion. Now however, he had a task, unrelated to the school to complete.

“Oh Severus, you don’t have to abuse every door in this castle,” Poppy huffed with mild annoyance. 

Snape smirked at the agitated witch. The old mediwitch was the only other staff member at Hogwarts that knew he was still on the side of good. The situation was not of his own choosing, but out of his control, as the nosy witch had figured out Hermione’s memories had returned during her summer in the hospital following the Battle at the Department of Mysteries. No one that truly knew him, would believe that a Severus Snape with his Hermione, would turn against the light. However, his resentment at Albus for the de-aging of his wife had never been a secret, making it a lot easier for those who he’d lived most of his life around to believe in the part he played.

“I require your assistance, Poppy,” Severus insisted, taking the witch by the arm and leading her over to the large fireplace in the wing, for emergency floo travel.

It wasn’t until they landed in the study at the familiar, Gryffindor matron’s home, that Poppy was able to reply, having been quickly spirited away.

“Now, see here, Severus Snape, I’ll not have you manhandling me,” Madam Pomfrey insisted sternly.

The man, who was usually dark looks that compelled compliance and fear, had the good sense to look properly abashed in the presence of her stern tone.

“Hello Poppy,” Hermione greeted softly from the doorway to the kitchen.

The pregnant witch leaned heavily on the door frame, sweat beading her brow, her hair in disarray, and her ever growing stomach on display. It was clear that she had been brewing before their arrival, having stepped out to greet them as the floo flared to life. Still, he noticed that Hermione had her wand in her hand, lowered at the appearance of friendly faces, but ready for trouble.

Turning to greet the younger woman, Poppy suddenly squealed in delight, upon observing Hermione’s condition. The mediwitch quickly crossed the distance and pulled the tired witch into a tight embrace.

“I couldn’t quite fill you in on all the details while at Hogwarts,” Severus explained awkwardly.

“A little more warning, is all a witch asks for,” Poppy said with a half-hearted glare, before turning back to Hermione. “Well, let’s take a look at you, shall we?”

She guided the pregnant woman to recline on the couch in the room, drawing her wand. Gently lifting the grey t-shirt, that covered Hermione’s belly, the healer started muttering diagnostic spells. It was about then, that the boys seemed to have registered that there had been an arrival at the house, and had made their way to the study. Both slammed to a stop in the doorway, nearly stumbling over each other, with their jaws dropping to the floor. Harry stumbled over his shock upon entering the room, causing Severus to turn swiftly towards them, placing his large, billowing black form between the boys and his wife. The boys tripped over each other, retreating back into the kitchen.

Poppy snorted in amusement, “Boys! See a little bit of skin on a witch and their brains stop functioning.”

Hermione just chuckled softly, though Severus was still glaring at where they had departed.

“Severus, quit scowling and come over here,” Hermione insisted softly, a hint of lightness in her voice.

The man responded instantly, taking a seat on the floor beside the couch and holding his witch’s offered hand.

“Alright, now let’s see,” Poppy murmured to herself. “Now that’s odd. Conception was in June but this is showing you’re roughly twenty-five weeks along.”

The mediwitch cast another diagnosis spell, pulling up a glowing development timeline that hovered just above the witch’s stomach. Hermione blushed a deep shade of red, trying to find a way to explain to one of the healers that had helped her through her time turner addiction, that she was using again. However, she didn’t get the chance. The mediwitch pulled up a second timeline, which hovered over Hermione’s chest.

“Hmm, time turner use is pretty clear on these developmental and life-line scans, Madam Snape,” the Healer said with a disappointed frown.

Hermione had cringed when Poppy had used her married name rather than her given name. She knew it was Pomfrey’s way of not letting personal emotions get in the way. However, Hermione was always curious.

“How does it show?” Hermione asked, Severus sitting nearby seemed incredibly curious as well.

“These darkest segments are real time, as everyone else experiences it,” Poppy explained, pointing to both scans. “The lighter segments are when there are two or more of you experiencing the same timeline. The best I can guess, as you’re the only one I’ve seen this on, the lighter segments are such because your life force and magic are stretched thinner and thinner with each version of you that occupies the space.”

“Will it hurt the baby?” Hermione asked anxiously.

“It shouldn’t but I cannot know for sure,” Pomfrey explained sadly. “We won’t know until the birth.”

“What is this darker section?” Severus asked, pointing to a large portion of Hermione’s life line, that was darker than the beginning of the line.

“I’m not sure,” Poppy admitted.

She cast again, the life line in question stretching out with time periods added throughout it. The mediwitch studied the line with a frown, conjuring a parchment and quill, that floated in the air and took notes of its own accord. Hermione smiled at the use of her spellwork, which transcribed the notes as the caster’s mind formulated them.

“It looks like that section stretches from 1971 until 1991. Obviously it has something to do with whatever magic transported you out of the timeline in the first place,” Poppy hazarded a guess. “I have a friend in the spell damage ward at St. Mungos that I consulted on this with, but it’s all conjecture based on the available information.”

Severus nodded, then another question popped into his mind, “What about the time-turner? Should she stop using it?”

“No!” Hermione and Poppy both insisted strongly.

“Why?” Severus insisted, frowning at his wife.

He knew the hold the time travel magic had over the witch. It was a very real addiction that she struggled with, much as he had struggled. Snape had expected his wife to object to stopping the use of the time turner, but was surprised at Poppy’s objection.

“One moment,” Poppy insisted, before stepping closer to the fireplace. Tossing a handful of powder into the grate, then called out, “Hogwarts Hospital Wing. Accio Hermione Granger-Snape Medical File.”

A loud grinding sound could be heard, causing both Severus and Hermione to wince. A moment later, a large crate flew through the emerald flames and landed gently on the rug in front of the healer.

“Uhmm, Poppy, that’s a box, not a file,” Hermione insisted with confusion.

“Yes, well, you’ve wracked up your fair share of medical records, my girl,” Poppy explained, already digging through the paperwork in the box.

“All of that is from my time at Hogwarts,” the younger witch asked with concern.

“Not just Hogwarts,” Poppy admitted, evasively, avoiding eye contact.

“What do you mean, Poppy?” Severus asked, using his stern professor voice on the older witch.

“Like I said, I have a contact at St. Mungos. After the Ministry fell, I asked her to get me some files before she fled to the continent,” Poppy explained.

“My files? Why?” Hermione asked.

“Not just yours. I had any medical records of all the Hogwarts Staff, Order Members, current students from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff, and anyone else I could think of, moved to my office at Hogwarts.”

“Why?” Severus asked again.

“Because medical files are likely much more dangerous than anything the Ministry had. She helped me get the only copies out, before St. Mungos fell under the power of the Death Eaters,” Poppy explained.

Both husband and wife looked rather confused, and the healer made a noise of frustration before continuing to explain, slowly, as if they were both dimwitted.

“Medical records have all sorts of personal information on the witch or wizard, including home locations. It also could provide weaknesses to the individual in question. The Ministry doesn’t usually keep files on every magical person. They keep employee files, which means many of our people that worked for the Ministry are at risk still, but other than that, they only keep files on those they consider potentially dangerous - which are kept in the law enforcement offices. Some of the Order members might have files there, but they will be more speculation, instead of voluntarily given information.”

“That makes sense,” Severus admitted, dumbfounded that he hadn’t considered it.

“I don’t know that his people would have thought to try and use it, but I figured it was safer to remove it. As you know, Hermione, the filing system in my office has some of the best privacy wards, since you developed it,” the healer said fondly.

“Anyways, this is what I was looking for,” Poppy explained, pulling a thick file out of the box. 

Skimming most of the pages, until she found the one she was looking for, then she offered the open file to Severus. The wizard’s dark eyes scanned the notes on the page, flipping through the couple magical photographs attached to the open section. His expression grew darker and darker. Concerned, Hermione leaned over his shoulder. Staring back at her from the photograph was a very skinny and sickly looking version of herself, taken after she had been admitted to St. Mungos for the time travel withdrawals.

“The withdrawal side effects were quite intense and difficult for her to manage the first time around,” Poppy explained, calmly. “Many of those symptoms could prove to be quite dangerous, even deadly, the growing child.”

Hermione and Severus both nodded in understanding.

“How many times are you turning now, Hermione?” The first sheaf of parchment rolled itself up and disappeared to Madam Pomfrey’s desk, while the quill scratched away on a new piece of parchment.

“Twice a night,” the young witch answered.

“And before you found out you were pregnant?” Poppy asked knowingly.

“Four or five times, usually,” Hermione admitted, her cheeks turning a deep crimson.

“Any side effects from the decrease?”

“I’m not sleeping as well and my appetite is worse than it has been,” the witch answered.

“I’ll send some nutrient and appetite enhancing potions over to get you through the next couple of days, as I know you can brew your own. A vitamin supplement as well to make sure the baby is getting everything he needs.”

“He?” Hermione and Severus echoed back at the same time, looking at each other.

“Oh blast,” Poppy swore, causing Severus to chuckle, at the mild-mannered witch.

“I forgot to ask if you wanted to know. Well, too late now, I guess. Would you like to hear his heartbeat?” Poppy asked sheepishly.

“Yes!” Hermione insisted.

The healer dismissed the still hovering diagnostics, before flicking her wand, another spell tumbling from her lips. Instantly, the rapid, echoing heartbeat filled the room. Severus stared in wonder at Hermione’s abdomen, one of his hands gently caressing the smooth skin stretched over the growing bump.

After a few more minutes, Poppy cancelled the spell.

“Healthy looking and sounding baby boy. Keep your time turner use as low as you can without the side effects getting too bad, and monitor your time consumption, so we can know when to expect this little one,” Poppy explained. “Other than that, you’re doing fine, momma.”

“Now, if that is all,” The witch stood and picked up the large file crate, making to head back to Hogwarts through the floo.

“A moment Poppy,” Severus insisted. “Remus is supposed to be bringing Tonks shortly. I recommended they stay away from St. Mungos, as it is under Riddle’s rule now.”

* * *

The three had joined the boys in the kitchen for a cup of tea while they waited for the werewolf and his pregnant wife. Harry was nearly vibrating in his chair with excitement at being an uncle soon, already planning on buying the unborn child his first play broom. Ron was still looking a little green, though not as bad as his initial reaction. Still, Poppy was concerned enough about his coloring to cast a few spells on him, before declaring that he was simply suffering from a long lasting case of adolescence.

It was about an hour later that the floo flared to life. Severus had stood to greet the pair that had appeared in the living room, shaking his friends hand, and congratulating the pair. Tonks could barely contain her surprise, almost cursing Snape where he stood. Wand in hand, it had only been the long discussion in advance with Remus that had stopped her casting. The witch had only joined the Order during the current war and only knew Snape as the demanding professor and then dark spy. Seeing him open, smiling, and greeting her husband like an old friend, instead of an enemy, was shocking enough that she felt somewhat dizzy.

“Easy there, Tonks,” Hermione said with a smirk from the doorway, a hand resting atop her very round belly.

Remus caught his witch as her knees buckled, and settled her on the couch.

“Is it Ron’s?” was all the startled witch could ask.

Severus growled at the very idea, while Remus and Hermione just looked confused. They had assumed the spells that Dumbledore had woven around Hermione to conceal her identity had been dismissed with the wizard’s death.

“Do you know who I am?” Hermione asked Tonks.

“Well of course I know who you are,” Tonks insisted, seemingly frustrated by the question. “You started Hogwarts as I was leaving, but I’ve known you for years through the Order.”

It was Severus’ turn to frown, though they didn’t get a chance to say much, before Poppy bustled into the room, instructing Tonks to lie back on the couch and let her take a look. Hermione shared a look with Severus and Remus. 

Familiar with the feel of the magic Dumbledore had woven, Snape inspected the magical signatures around his wife. The healing magic of Poppy’s still lingered somewhat, but it was predominantly his wife’s magic. There was the slightest hint of the old man’s magic, but it was so subtle, Snape couldn’t work out where or how it was merged with his wife’s magic. However, when he transferred his attention to Tonks, he could feel the oppressive thrum that was Dumbledore’s magic humming along with the witch’s own. Carefully, Severus wove his own magic around the witch, the dark swirls, as his mind conjured them in his eyes, gently reached out and untangled the old wizard's very clingy magic, where it had merged itself with the clumsy witch’s own magic. Poppy was most of the way through her examination, the medi-witch's eyes occasionally flickering to Severus as she felt him working, when Tonks sat bolt upright on the sofa, her eyes going large as she stared at Hermione.

“Professor Snape?!” the younger witch exclaimed in shock.

Hermione smirked, and said in her practiced and measured professor voice, “Yes, Miss Tonks, welcome back.”

Despite her lack of grace, Tonks had always been an excellent student. The witch had been decent at Ancient Runes, though far from her best or favorite subject. Though, at the announced death of her favorite professor in her final year, Nymphadora had dropped the course to focus on the N.E.W.T.s she needed to join the aurors.

“What happened?” Tonks asked, looking at Remus in confusion, her mind trying to merge what she knew of her professor, with the teenager she’d gotten to know.

“Dumbledore,” Remus answered simply, his eyes sad, before quickly filling his wife in on some of the story.

“It seems that Dumbledore’s found a way to impress his magic upon others, without his presence,” Severus pondered.

Hermione’s eyes grew wide. “How?”

“I’m not sure. The traces of his magic mixed with your own are very minute, but there. However, his magic was clinging very tightly to Miss Tonks. I’m assuming his spell works through you to impress upon others on the outside of your secret as you interact with them,” Severus tried to explain, the best he understood it.

“Wouldn’t the magic have died with him?” Poppy asked, having finished her exam.

“It seems not. Though, it was very faint and subtle around Hermione. I’d wager a guess that his influence on the world is slowly fading, though I never thought to examine her magical trace for evidence of his tampering before this,” Snape admitted with a shrug.

“Well, let’s hope it lasts long enough to finish this war,” Remus interjected gravely. “It wouldn’t do for Death Eaters we went to school with, to recognize Hermione. It could be deadly to both her and, yourself, Severus.”


	35. Fiendfyre

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is an update. I make no promises on when to expect the next one. Life is weird right now and I start training for a new job tomorrow.
> 
> As always, let me know what you think!

**August 31, 1997**

The winds whipped at their robes as they stood on the open plain of the Scottish countryside. The McGonagall home was little more than a spot in the distance from where they stood, exposed atop the plateau. Harry, Ron, and Remus wandered to the edge of the landscape, looking out in awe. Minerva nearby, wrapped tightly in her robes against the crisp wind, the weather already starting to turn cold this far north. Severus stood close to Hermione, one hand firmly on her lower back, holding her steady, while the other still held the broom they had used to arrive at their location. 

Much of the morning sickness had resided, but travel in general, during pregnancy seemed to be difficult whether witch or muggle. Hermione wryly reflected that it would have been nice to spread her wings for the short flight, as she hadn’t been in her animagus form in years. Although it hadn’t needed to be said, Minerva had discussed magical boundaries during the pregnancy and magical transformation was a strong no. It had briefly made her wonder about the polyjuice, but as none of the ingredients were dangerous to the pregnancy, there was no use worrying about something that had already been done.

“Ready?” Severus asked quietly.

“Let’s get this over with,” Hermione announced, drawing the group back together. “I want you all to establish the perimeter as we discussed and set the wards. If anything goes wrong, it would be best if the fire can be contained until it dies out.”

Severus looked uncomfortable, while the rest simply nodded gravely. Turning specifically towards her husband, she looked up into his dark eyes.

“If I cannot contain the fiendfyre, you cannot come after me,” she told him firmly.

When he attempted to protest, she placed a finger gently against his lips to silence him.

“The moment it turns, it will already be too late for me. There is no putting the genie back in the bottle at that point. You are still needed to end this,” she insisted.

Stiffly he nodded, acknowledging the truth she spoke and simply said, “Be careful, and come back to me. Both of you.”

“I’ll do my best,” she assured him.

Gently, she removed her beaded bag from her shoulder and reached in, locating the amulet. With the malevolent jewelry in hand, she passed the rest of their supplies off to her husband and sent the others off to their positions around her.

Once everyone was in place, she set the locket on the ground, before stepping back and taking her wand into her hand. She felt the worn, vinewood length in her hand, the impression of the vines climbing up her wand firm against her palm. Slowly, she breathed in through her nose, long in drawn breaths, before exhaling slowly through her mouth. In her mind, she summoned all her good intentions. Her protective instinct for her family and friends, her love for her husband, her desire for a safe world to raise their child together.

When she felt these feelings fill her, she calmly and strongly spoke the incantation, waving her wand in the required pattern. The heat is the first thing she noticed as flames began to flicker and slide from the tip of her wand. The brilliant blue flames quickly grew from the size of a candle flame, to a large blaze, contorting itself into the form of a massive wolf, that prowled and stalked in a circle around her. She marveled briefly at the fiery form before turning her focus onto the locket.

The blue flame wolf prowled closer, approaching the dark object cautiously, as Hermione focused her control and intent on it. Just as the flames looked like they might lick at the shell, the locket burst open, a dark cloud of smoke rising up from the heart of the object. The cloud hissed and screeched and screamed as it burst forth, the flames receding from it somewhat as their caster recoiled from the harsh sound.

“So it’s you, that finally faces me,” the shade hissed in a musical voice, the cloud reforming into a shape that resembled a young man. “I should have known that Snape couldn’t control you.”

Hermione blanched, color draining from her face as the shadow acknowledged who she truly was. The flame wolf continued to prowl along the edges, creating a ring of fire surrounding herself and the locket. Ever so slightly, the tips of the flames were starting to change, from their brilliant blue glow, to an angry red.

“You’ll lose them all, you know,” the shade insisted. “If you oppose me, I will take every one of them away from you. If you fight me, they will fall one by one as you watch, helpless to match my might.”

Hermione’s breathing stopped in her chest and her heart raced with panic at the words spoken to her. The flames continued to darken into a traditional red, the wolf slowly morphing into a long slithering body. She could faintly hear the others shouting at her from their places surrounding her, but couldn’t make out their words, nearly frozen in fear as she was. The heat was getting more intense, the moisture being sucked away from her and her skin started to burn slightly.

“Join me,” the shade insisted, the serpentine hiss urgent. “With Severus by your side, you two will hold a place of the highest honor as we remake our world.”

Suddenly however, the sound of her husband’s name brought her back, and she could clearly hear his voice in the wind, calling to her. In an instant, her slipping control returned, the flames instantly snapping back to the brilliant blue, the half wolf, half snake creature rising up into the shape of a massive phoenix, wings spread as it climbed high into the sky, before diving straight down, a column of flames slamming straight through the shadow creature, engulfing the locket in blazing heat. 

The smoke screeched in agony for but a moment, before all fell silent. The loud whooshing of the flames dissipated, the column of fire dwindling down to simply a charred circle of ground, with a small pile of molten metal and a cracked gem, as that was left of the locket. The dark magic destroyed by the flames.

The wind on the plateau stirred up around Hermione, sending chills down her spine after the intense heat. With a strong gust, she collapsed to the ground, darkness surrounding her, before any of her companions could reach her. 

—————————-

Hermione woke in her bed several hours later, laying on her side, with a firm body behind her and large hands wrapped protectively around her stomach. She tried to be quiet as she observed her surroundings, trying to piece together the events she last had remembered. However, the other occupant of the bed obviously hadn’t been sleeping and had noticed the change in pattern of her breathing.

“You passed out in the field after destroying the amulet,” Severus explained, knowing how her mind worked.

“It’s gone then?” She asked to confirm for sure and settle the fear rising in her gut, thinking she had failed.

“Yes,” Severus assured her.

He paused for a moment before asking, “What happened in there? We saw a cloud of smoke and for a time, the blue of your flames started to turn red. I thought that I had lost you, that they had escaped your control.”

“I’m not sure, but I think the locket tried to defend itself. When Harry destroyed the diary, the memory of Tom Riddle tried to stop him and defend itself, but we just assumed that it was because the memory was already between trying to bridge the gap into our world. But it would make sense that the parts of his soul would want to protect themselves,” Hermione mused.

“And the flames?”

Quietly, she admitted, “I did almost lose control. The part of the soul knew things about me, said things that made me doubt myself. It knew I was your wife.”

“Do we think that the Dark Lord knows these things as well?” Snape asked with concern.

“I don’t know, but from Harry’s limited interactions, it seems like Tom Riddle from the diary and the Dark Lord were separate. I think the piece of the soul was just protecting itself. Since Riddle is a legilimens, the piece of soul, might be able to access thoughts to twist and use them against the person intending it harm, as a way to protect itself. But that is just a guess,” Hermione answered. “We should assume that he knows that the piece of his soul has been destroyed, as the sum of the whole is now less, but that he doesn’t know the information the piece of soul was privy to, as it is no longer directly connected to the whole, if that makes sense.”

“A bit,” Severus mused, still mulling over the logic she had used.

“Did anyone check on the baby while I was out?” Hermione inquired. “I’m not sure what caused me to pass out in the first place.”

“Minerva ran the diagnostics. Everything is fine, the baby is doing good. We assume magical exhaustion. The baby is already taxing your magical resources, and then you choose to go and cast complex and draining acts of magic, it’s no wonder you collapsed,” he drawled the last, his tone heavy with sarcasm.

Hermione smirked and rolled against him. Her body felt like it weighed a ton and her limbs ached, but Secerus easily gave up ground as she rolled to hover above him.

Wincing, she admitted, “I feel like I got hit by a truck.”

“Or a giant animated column of flame intent on destruction?”

He smirked at her, before gently taking one of her hands in his, the limb wrapped in white bandages.

“You sustained some burns, with the exhaustion, but we treated them with burn paste and wrapped them quickly, so there should be minimal scarring, if any,” he explained.

Hermione just nodded, then nestled herself against his body, her head resting on his chest.

“I’m tired,” she muttered, already feeling the pull of sleep again.

“As you should be,” Severus insisted. “I’ve got you. Sleep and heal my love. I’ll be here when you wake again.”

———————————-

**September 5, 1996**

Severus and Minerva had been back to the school since the start of term, unable to sneak back to the manor home under the watchful eyes of the Carrow Twins. However, the house was even more full, as Hermione had convinced Remus and Tonks to stay with them, the home being a safe place for the expecting witch, in a time of turmoil. Though Hermione knew that it was only Severus’ insistence that the home would be safer, rather than in more danger, for the werewolf’s presence, before Remus had relented.

It was late at night, or rather quite early in the morning, when Remus had entered the kitchen to find Hermione standing by the counter, with a steaming cup in her hands. His keen nose could pick up the rich scent of her coffee, even from a distance.

“I thought caffeine was off limits for mommas?” Remus inquired with a wolfish grin.

“Only when over protective dads-to-be are around. And one cup a day won’t hurt the baby,” Hermione hummed, turning her eyes on the man as he entered the room.

Remus chuckled softly, “And are you only having just one?”

“More or less,” Hermione shrugged, hiding a yawn behind her cup.

“I know you still need to use the time turner to prevent withdrawals, but maybe you should use the time to get some extra sleep?” The wolf suggested, taking a seat at the table.

“Can’t,” Hermione insisted, joining him at the table. “I’ve got a dozen potions going that need intermittent attention, including your wolfsbane. Besides, I do get some extra sleep. Just trying to keep my travel time down and things need done.”

“Isn’t the wolfsbane poisonous during stages of brewing? Didn’t Severus insist you not brew it?” Remus asked in alarm.

“Modified bubble head charm,” she explained. “Severus looked over my work on the spell and reluctantly agreed. He cannot explain away brewing the potion if he his caught, and I’ll not have him endangering himself. I still have to take frequent breaks, as the oxygen is thinner in the charm and not best in long periods of time for the baby. It’s why I’m out here sneaking coffee in the middle of the night.”

“Still, I don’t like you taking the risk,” he muttered.

“And I don’t like the idea of chaining you up during full moons,” Hermione answered with a glare, silencing any further arguments from her friend.

The say in companionable silence for a time before Hermione looked at the man next to her. He was so different from even a few years ago, worn down and aged prematurely by his illness and the war raging around him.

“I’m sorry about Sirius,” she said softly, breaking the silence.

Remus and Sirius had dated on and off while at Hogwarts and the years following. Their romantic relationship had struggled between Sirius’ wild bouts of religious freedom and Remus’ self-worth issues, but the two had still remained good friends whether they were on or off.

“I wish that I had remembered sooner, that there had been something I could do to save him,” she whispered.

“What happened was an accident and the only one at fault are Riddle and his followers,” Remus said stiffly.

“Still, he was important to you. It must be difficult,” Hermione offered.

“I lost him a long time ago. He was … different, after Askaban. Then being cooped up in his family home. In the end, he wasn’t the same Sirius Black I fell in love with. Death might have been a mercy for him.”

“And Tonks, you love her?” Hermione asked.

The young witch had only ever had eyes and love for Severus, the concept of loving more than one person, romantically, a foreign one to her.

“Yes, we do,” Remus answered, meeting her eyes.

Hermione nodded in understanding. Moony had accepted Sirius as part of the pack, but had not claimed the man as his mate. On the other hand, it seemed that Tonks was a perfect match for the both of them. She wondered how wild the wolf had been, when Remus had refused to accept the witch's affection and attention. Obviously quite angry at the man’s eventual change of heart on the matter.

“Good, she deserves that,” Hermione replied. “Anyways, I should get back to it. Just about time for the next step.”

“Do you need any help?” Remus asked.

“Go back to bed, Remus. You were never very good at potions, my friend,” Hermione assured him.

She silently spelled her cup to rise itself in the sink, stood and pushed in her chair, than retreated back to the private potion lab off the kitchen, the door shutting firmly behind her.


	36. Unexpected Revelations

October 17, 1996

“Mione?” Harry called out, frustration evident in his tone.

The young wizard sat at the kitchen table, a pile of books spread out across the surface between him and Ron, while they searched for clues on what and where the remaining horcruxes might be. So far, they had made frustratingly little progress in the search. Ron had fallen asleep with his face in a book not long after lunch, while Harry was currently playing with the old copy of Tales of Beedle the Bard, that Dumbledore had left for Hermione, the translated text also open in front of him on the table, but he hadn’t been actively looking at the books for a while.

An idea had wriggled into his head and the more he explored it, the more appealing it seemed. Now he just had to convince Hermione of the merits.

The exhausted witch waddled into the kitchen a few minutes after he had called for her, shutting the potion lab door behind her. Leaning heavily against the closed door, she rested briefly, before making the short, but tiring trek to claim a seat at the table.

Remus, who had also been buried in books, but was still immersed, unlike the two boys, stood quickly to pull a chair out for her. Hermione gratefully collapsed into the seat and smiled kindly at her old friend, before turning to Harry. 

“Alright, what have you got?” She asked.

“I think I should go to Godric’s Hollow,” Harry declared.

He quickly followed up before she could dismiss the idea, her disapproval written all across her face.

“We’re looking for places that are important to Riddle and Godric’s Hollow fits that bill. It was where he was defeated the first time, it was where my parents were hiding from him.”

“That seems pretty important of a place to me,” Ron agreed, having been roused by the discussion.

“There isn’t a horcrux in Godric’s Hollow,” Hermione insisted calmly.

“How do you know?” Harry burst out in a rage before she could say anymore. “They could be anywhere!”

“This is true, but Albus would have known if there was one in Godric’s Hollow,” Hermione explained. “If there was one there, he would have found and destroyed it long ago.”

“What’s Dumbledore got to do with the place?” Harry asked.

“Godric’s Hollow was a prominent wizarding town years ago. Since your parent’s muder, it has calmed down a bit, but is still very popular. Dumbledore’s family lived there, your father’s family manor is on the outskirts of the town. The Prewett family home was also in the area. Even Remus grew up in the town. It was a popular location for those aligned with the light. James and Lily bought the place in town to be surrounded by allies in a time of war, providing an extra layer of protection,” Hermione told the two young wizards.

“Why does that mean there isn’t a horcrux hidden there?” Harry demanded.

“You’ve felt the dark energy of a horcrux. When you understand what they are, you can feel them more keenly. In inanimate objects, it’s like the soul is calling out to others, wanting to be heard. The knowledge is relatively obscure in the wizarding world today, but old, pureblood families, both light and dark, are aware of it in some aspect. It would be calling out to other witches and wizards in Godric’s Hollow if one was hidden there,” Hermione lectured.

“Besides, before his death, Albus visited the Hollow several times a year. If there was one hidden there, he would have felt it,” Remus added.

“Why would Dumbledore visit? He didn’t have a home there, we know that from setting up the safe houses,” Ron asked.

“His sister is buried there. He would go to pay his respects,” Hermione supplied.

Harry was quiet for a moment, before asking softly, “Are my parents buried there?”

A tear gathered in Hermione’s eye as she nodded gently. “They are, Harry.”

“Then I want to go,” the young man insisted. “I want to see them, and see for myself that he isn’t hiding one there.”

“We cannot, Harry,” she told him. “Riddle will expect you to want to go. There is likely a trap set and I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if his connection to you is the reason you believe so strongly that we should go. We can’t just walk straight into his hands.”

“But you said there is a strong magical community there. We should be safe,” the boy-who-lived argued.

“The entirety of the wizarding community of Britain and Scotland are under Riddle’s thumb. He is in control right now and it remains to be seen if the light will prevail. This means that those not directly in his way want it to stay that way as long as possible. We likely won’t receive any help in this fight outside of the Order,” Remus supplied.

“But we have to do something,” Harry insisted. “I can’t keep hiding out here, while he is hunting down and hurting people.”

“And do what, Harry?” Hermione demanded, rising from her seat too quickly and swaying slightly.

Remus jumped to his feet to steady her. At the raised voices, Tonks had made her way into the room, observing from the doorway.

“All we know is two possible horcruxes. Hufflepuff’s cup, that hasn’t had a sighting in decades, and Nagini, Riddle’s snake. Nagini will have to be the very last one we destroy before destroying Riddle, as she almost never leaves his side. Severus is too busy with the school to track the snake more closely, so our best chance is during whatever final confrontation happens. That leaves one unknown horcrux and two unknown locations. Until we can take those out, we cannot defeat him. So baiting him into a fight won’t do anything, but potentially cause a loss of lives.

“So you aren’t doing “nothing” here. You are trying to find the answers. But if you’d rather be in some ratty old tent, in the cold, with no food, in order to feel like you’re accomplishing something, than by all means, go camp out in the yard and let me know if you come to the answers any faster,” Hermione yelled in frustration.

Harry had the good sense to look abashed, while Remus urged Hermione to regain her seat, stating that the stress wasn’t good for the baby.

“What do we do then?” Harry asked. “I just feel so useless.” 

“We wait and we find the answers,” Hermione insisted.

“How?” Harry muttered sullenly.

“We go over it again and again. So what do we know?” Tonks asked, moving into the room to take a seat.

Remus instinctively stood to start a pot of tea as they started into yet another brainstorming session. The ideas spoke out loud and bounced off the others always seemed to be the most productive for the group.

“Well, Hermione said it. We know two of the remaining three horcruxes: the snake and Hufflepuff’s cup,” Ron supplied.

“Good. Which means only one unknown. What do we know about how Riddle has chosen these objects?” Hermione asked.

“Hogwarts and the Founders are important to him. He’s used something from Slytherin and Hufflepuff. All of Gryfindor’s artifacts have been accounted for, so it can’t be that. So, logically, it’s something important to Ravenclaw,” Harry answered, before hitting the table in frustration, “but we don’t really know anything about Ravenclaw and her lore.”

“Okay, so who do we know from Ravenclaw that can help?” Tonks asked.

“Luna,” Harry and Ron replied together.

“Unfortunately, Death Eaters removed her from the train on the way to Hogwarts,” Hermione interjected. “Minerva sent a list of missing students this term.”

“What about Cho?” Harry asked.

“I don’t think that we can trust her,” Hermione admitted, clearly uncomfortable. “Her father works for the Ministry. Another family trying not to make waves. Besides, anyone at Hogwarts is out. We can’t risk going there and it’s too suspicious trying to smuggle students out of the castle now.”

Remus floated the tea set over to the table, steaming hot liquid quickly poured into each cup, that settled in front of the occupants.

“What about Hogwarts?” Remus asked, as he added milk and sugar to his wife’s cup.

“What do you mean?” Hermione inquired, fixing her own cup, but looking questioningly at the werewolf.

“What if Riddle hid one of the horcruxes at Hogwarts while he was still a student?” Remus supplied.

“Or when he was there applying for the defense position,” Harry added, more familiar with the memories Dumbledore had shared.

“Hmmm,” she responded. “It’s logical actually. Probable even. Hogwarts is large enough and has enough secrets that a dark object could be hidden without giving itself away.”

“The problem is, we can’t get into Hogwarts to search without alerting him, through the Carrows. And I’d be surprised if he didn’t have snatchers permanently placed in Hogsmeade. Especially if part of his soul is locked away in the school,” Tonks added.

“But which part?” Ron asked.

“It doesn’t matter really. It’s just another one we can’t reach until the end,” Harry muttered, swearing under his breath.

“At least means that we likely only have to figure out one more location,” Tonks insisted cheerfully, her hair flashing neon colors with excitement. “At least holed up here waiting on the baby, I get to contribute some.”

“Unfortunately, our best resource for Ravenclaw lore is also had Hogwarts,” Remus added.

“Filius?” Hermione inquired.

“No, though also not a bad choice. The Grey Lady, the ghost of the daughter of Rowena Ravenclaw resides in the castle. If anyone knows what we’re looking for, it’ll be her.”

“Of course, why didn’t I think of that,” Hermione mused.

“Baby brain?” Tonks supplied unhelpfully, causing the boys to chuckle.

“Well, if we can’t know what we’re looking for, how do we find it?” Ron asked after a time.

“The feel of the magic,” Hermione inserted. “In a safe kept location, it might be obvious.”

They sat in silence for a time, sipping their tea, while it still retained some degree of warmth. Tonks stood and pilfered some sugary cookies from a cabinet after a time, her nose transforming to that of a pig briefly as Remus gave her a disappointing look.

“What if he gave it to someone to protect?” Hermione asked after a few moments. “Lucius was tasked with protection of the diary. So what if the cup or this unknown object was given to one of his most trusted to protect?”

“Not a bad idea, but what are we supposed to do? Start breaking into Death Eater homes?” Harry asked skeptically. 

“No, he’d want something safer than that. He must have been furious when Lucius was so careless with the diary. And we assume that he feels when a part of his soul is destroyed, so he would have known when Albus destroyed the ring. He would want to make sure that it couldn’t be touched by anyone, except the one he entrusted with its protection. It would have to be the safest place possible,” Hermione mused.

“What’s safer than a Death Eater’s house,” Ron queried.

“Gringotts,” Harry answered solemnly, remembering his first trip into the bowels of the bank to visit his vault.

“Not just Gringotts, but the LeStrange Vault, at Gringotts,” Hermione clarified.

“How do you …” Remus began to ask.

“It’s well known that Bellatrix LeStrange is one of Riddle’s favorites. And Severus told us that the real Sword of Gryffindor was placed in the LeStrange vault. If he trusts Bellatrix with the sword, then it’s likely he has also trusted her with a piece of his soul,” Hermione interrupted.

“Well, how the hell are we supposed to break into the safest place in the world?” Ron exclaimed sarcastically. 

“I think we’re going to need your brother,” Tonks answered, with a mischievous smirk. 


	37. Time

**November 14, 1996**

The day had started like any other Thursday morning, under the oppressive rule of Headmaster Snape and the Carrow twins. The houses had been marched in lines from their dorms to the great hall, each led by their head of house. Today, Alecto Carrow had decided to inspect the Gryffindor formation as it made its way to breakfast. A pair of rowdy second years had been jostled out of formation. 

The dark witch's wand had quickly turned on one of the young students, the red light shooting from the tip of her wand, moments before the young man screamed in pain. After a few moments, she had switched her target from the first offender to the second, despite the fact that he had already scurried back to his place in line.

Minerva bit her tongue, working hard to suppress her fury. Though by now, she knew from experience that it would just make it harder on the students if she spoke up, the Carrows preferring to torture the children, though their wands had been turned on the head of Gryffindor a time or two already.

Alecto’s spell ended and she waited with a malicious grin for the two students to pick themselves up off the ground. When they failed to resume their positions as quickly as she would have liked, the Death Eater raised her wand again.

It was Neville who eventually stepped out of line, only previously held back that long by his roommate. The seventh year Gryffindor stepped forward and gently helped each boy to his feet, interesting the student next to them to make sure they kept their feet.

“Back in line,” Alecto had snarled, sending a vicious slicing hex at the young wizard and leaving a nasty gash across his cheek.

“Enough,” Minerva insisted finally. “We will be late to breakfast if we dally any longer. And you know how the Headmaster dislikes tardiness.”

She looked quickly over her charges and noticed that one of the boys had wet himself, while the other was covered in his own vomit. Neville was still dripping a considerable amount of blood down the side of his face and onto his previously clean uniform.

“Longbottom, take Mister Tyler and Mister Murphy to the hospital wing and get cleaned up before joining us for breakfast,” Minerva ordered sternly, before turning on heel and proceeding down the hallway.

The others of Gryffindor house took that as their cue and followed their head of house the rest of the way to the great hall, not a one stepping even a toe out of line. Alecto Carrow sulked for the remainder of the walk.

When they entered the great hall, Minerva stood watch as she was instructed to do as each of her students took their seat. The dark gaze of the Headmaster was already upon her, as Gryffindor was the last to arrive for breakfast.

Free of other responsibilities, the Carrow sister hurried quickly to the head table, stopping beside the Headmaster to converse briefly in hushed tones. Minerva was sure that her interruption of the twisted witch’s punishment was being reported. She did her best to conceal a triumphant smirk, when the dark witch skulked over to sit by her brother, after clearly being rebuked.

It was only once Minerva had taken her seat to the right of Severus, that breakfast was served to the waiting students and staff. The hall was quiet except for the muffled sounds of cutlery on plates.

Only a few moments after breakfast had begun, a brown, Hogwarts owl swooped through one of the magical windows along the top of the hall and landed directly in front of Minerva. All of the students stopped to marvel at the appearance of the owl. Student post was being closely monitored by the Carrows and would be dumped in the common rooms after it had been searched, meaning there were no more owls flooding the hall in the mornings. Staff had taken to having mail routed directly to their quarters after a few dark looks from the Headmaster. The same dark look that was now trained on Minerva.

“Sorry Headmaster,” Minerva muttered with her head ducked, as she relieved the owl of the small envelope.

She noticed the familiar handwriting on the note and lied smoothly, “A letter from my sister. It must be an emergency.”

Severus just arched an eyebrow at the bold-faced lie, as he knew she didn’t have any siblings, but Minerva’s eyes were glued to the parchment. The letter read:

_ Mum, _

_ It’s time. I need him here with me. Hurry. _

It was vague, but to the point and the older witch understood clearly. Now however, she had to convey the message. Being seated next to the man, however, had its advantages. With a silent “notice-me-not” cast, she subtly slipped the scrap of parchment into her son-in-law’s hand. The dark wizard barely moved, but she watched as his eyes dipped slightly to consume the words on the page. Minerva didn’t think he could be any more tense, but she was wrong, and watched as his body became even more rigid, but also as the wheels in his mind started to turn. Severus Snape was in problem solving mode. 

Just then, the door to the great hall opened and Longbottom entered, followed by the two younger Gryffindors, and Poppy Pomfrey.

“Madam Pomfrey,” Severus snapped, standing to his full height and drawing the attention of everyone in the room. “I believe we discussed your role earlier this year, did we not?”

Poppy looked pale as she stood in the spotlight. While in front of the Carrows, it was advised she only treat necessary injuries, the Headmaster had looked the other way as she had done her job. She allowed the students to sport minor cuts, abrasions, and bruises, while treating any other damage. Brewing the regenerative potion to counteract the cruciatus curse kept Severus Snape up most nights and she knew it. However, now he had singled her out for some reason.

“I am just performing the tasks required of my job, Headmaster,” Poppy asserted.

“We both know that you are doing more than that. It was made clear to you, that immediately offering healing aid to students that were suffering from a punishment brought upon themselves was forbidden, yet you still treat them. It is past time that you learn from your mistakes,” Severus drawled in his dark tone.

“You will report to my office immediately,” Snape snapped. “You as well, Professor McGonagall, as it was brought to my attention that you were the one to send the students to the hospital wing. Go now.”

Both witches began to move toward the exit of the hall, when another stood and addressed the Headmaster.

“Wouldn’t it be more beneficial for them to learn the lesson in public, Headmaster,” Alecto Carrow asked.

“I think not, Professor Carrow. However, it might be necessary to drive home the point to yourself, as you saw fit to question my judgement on the matter,” Severus observed darkly, his wand in his hand and turned on the Death Eater.

“My apologies Headmaster,” Carrow hurriedly supplied, almost physically ducking to hide behind her brother. “You’ve made your point clear, sir.”

“Good,” Severus snarled. “Breakfast is finished. All students will report to their first class. Transfiguration is canceled and classes will be under the supervision of Madam Pince in the library during the class period.”

The hall sat in stunned silence for a moment,before Headmaster Snape shoted, “Now! Move.”

Suddenly the hall burst into action as students stood to exit and make their way to classes, teachers helping herd groups of students in the correct direction. Severus strode to the staff exit of the hall and stood, waiting expectantly for Minerva and Poppy to fall into step beside him. Once they were with him, he led the way through the corridors and up the stone steps to the Headmaster’s Office. When the door snapped shut behind them and his privacy spells fell into place, his manor changed immediately.

“Quickly now,” he urged. “Through the floo. Hermione needs us.”

At that declaration, Poppy’s confusion at the events that had taken place evaporated and she sprung into action, stepping up to the large fireplace and tossing down a handful of grainy floo powder. In a matter of moments, the three adults stumbled through the swirling flames and stepped into the McGonagall study.

“Finally,” Harry greeted them as they stepped into the room, his tone on the edge of panic. “She’s in her room. Hurry up.”

A female scream of pain could be heard echoing throughout the house, and Severus broke into a run, with the two witches matching his brisk pace.

“That's it, Hermione,” Tonks encouraged, sitting on the edge of the bed, next to the younger witch, wiping the sweat from her brow with a cool towel. “Keep breathing now. Good job.”

“I’m here,” Severus insisted as he rushed into the room.

The dark wizard quickly climbed into the bed with her, settling down by her side and pulling her into his arms.

“I’m here, Hermione,” he confirmed, holding her close, gently kissing her brow, as his witch clung to him and nestled into his side, breathing heavily.

“Her contractions are pretty close together and her water broke an hour ago,” Tonks explained, filling Madam Pomfrey in in the details.

It was only a minute before Hermione had stiffened again, screaming out in pain as the contraction ripped through her body. She captured Severus’ hand in her own, squeezing in time with her screaming, and nearly crushing the man’s hand.

“Why haven’t you taken an epidural potion?” Severus asked in concern as his wife came down from the most recent wave of pain.

“I forgot to brew one,” she answered through gritted teeth, while she focused on breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth.

The pain pushed and sent electric jolts through her lower back and abdomen, while it felt like a band was constricting her chest.

“Forgot!” Severus asked in disbelief, “How do you forget you’re going to need pain potions …”

The rest of his thoughts were cut off as Hermione reached out and grasped the front of his robes roughly, pulling him directly into her face. A mixture of anger and pain was clearly evident as she snarled at him.

M

“Because, Severus fucking Snape! I’ve been busy trying to brew enough potions to supply an army and win this fucking war! That’s how.”

Remus stepped in and gently disentangled her finger’s from his friend’s clothing, pushing the man away while he soothed the witch.

“It’s alright, Hermione, he’s just worried about you. You’re doing great girl. Your little pup will be here soon. Poppy’s gotta take a look at you though, so you can’r murder Severus right now,” Remus cooed, smoothing down her sweat damp hair and rubbing her stomach gently.

Hermione just nodded, leaning back heavily against the pillows, while Poppy approached the bed. Remus pulled a reluctant Severus away while Pomfrey went to work. A few quick spells and the bed was shortened considerably and a pair of cloth covered, metal stirrups appeared. Next a series of diagnostic displays appeared, monitoring the witch and the baby both.

“Hermione,” Poppy announced. “I’ve got to see how dilated you are, my dear. This will just take a moment, but it’ll be uncomfortable.”

Severus tried to pull away and get back to his wife.

“Hold on,” Remus insisted. “I don’t want to watch her murder you, so listen for a moment. Your only job right now is to support her through this. Hold her hand, encourage her to breathe, listen for Poppy’s instruction and reinforce that. Got it? No more criticism, or I swear, I’m not responsible for what she does to you. Okay?”

Severus nodded enthusiastically, mute with fear and excitement. It wasn’t long before he was propelled back into the waiting arms of his wife as another contraction ripped through her body. He held her hand tightly and brushed her hair back, gently kissing her forehead as she screamed through the pain.

“Alright Hermione. Your son is ready to come into the world now. We’re going to need you to push in a moment,” the medi-witch announced. “Severus, sit behind her on the bed and hold onto her. Minerva, by her head if you would.”

The two went to work. Severus gently coaxed Hermione forward a little on what remained of the bes, while he crawled behind her, nestling her body in the crook of his legs. She slumped heavily against him as he settled into place and he held her gently. Minerva took up Tonk’s place, standing by Hermione’s side, a damp cloth pressed gently against her forehead and flushed cheeks while she murmured words of encouragement. 

“Alright Hermione. When the next contraction hits, I need you to bear down hard and push for me,” Poppy insisted.

Hermione merely nodded, her body already drained from the force of the contractions so far. Severus held her in his embrace, encouraging her to breathe.

“You’re got this love,” he whispered in her ear, gently kissing the side of her neck.

Hermione groaned in pain as she could feel the start of the next contraction coming on, the blinding pain building in her lower back and pelvis, the intense pressure that felt like it was squeezing the life out of her. 

“Push, Hermione, push,” Poppy prompted.

The young witch bore down with everything she had, using Severus for support as her body instinctively began to push, the muscles contracting, attempting to expel her child, while she screamed through the pain she thought would tear her apart. Before she knew it, the contraction had passed.

“Easy girl,” Minerva soothed. “Good job my girl. Good job. Rest, easy.” 

Severus held her tight and kissed her head. “Good job my love. You’ve got this.”

It seemed to her like no time had passed before the pain began to crest again and she could hear Poppy urging her to push again. As she bore down and pushed, the pressure got more and more intense, the pain taking on a burning, ripping, tearing quality and she screamed and sobbed through the contraction.

Time and time again, the pain would ease, only to surge back through her body again moments later. Hermione could feel her son inside her, pressing against her opening, ready to come out. And the pressure continued to build.

“He’s crowning, Hermione. On this next one, big strong pushes, my girl,” Poppy instructed.

“I know you’re tired, my love, but you’ve got to keep going. You’ve got this,” Severus encouraged.

The pain began again, and Hermione screamed, but her throat was so raw, that barely a sound came out, but still she pushed. This time it felt like her bones were breaking and the pressure felt like it had reached it’s limit and she was going to explode. Then, all of a sudden, it eased, replaced with a burning, aching pain.

Moments later, she heard her son cry for the first time as he breathed his first lungful of air.

“That’s it,” Poppy encouraged. “The head is out. Push again for me. Push hard.”

The wave of pain crested and she pushed as hard as she could, pushing past the heavy cloud of exhaustion. She screamed a new, ragged pitiful sound, she felt the burning, tearing pain, and she could feel as her son’s shoulders pushed free from her body. The rest of his body slipped easily out of her opening, once the shoulders were through. The weird sliding feeling sent a shiver down her spine.

“Oh, what a beautiful little boy,” Poppy cooed, taking an offered towel and gently wiping the boy clean before she offered him to his mother. “Here you go, Hermione. Here’s your boy.”

Hermione opened her arms as the small little being was presented to her and laid against her chest. Tears filled her eyes as she looked down at her son, looking deep into his dark, bottomless eyes, just like he fathers. The little boy observed her warily, watching her with the same skeptical expression his father often wore, as if to ask, “what the hell just happened”.

Hermione just chuckled softly as her heart filled up with an overwhelming job, at the light weight of the bundle in her arms. 

“Okay, Momma. Pass the little guy over to dad for a moment, while we finish up here,” Pomfrey instructed.

Severus carefully extricated himself from his position behind his wife, being careful to prop her up comfortably with plenty of pillows. When he was sure that she was comfortable, he reached out and gently scooped his son up from her arms. He only took a couple of small steps away from the bed, giving the mediwitch enough room to work, but staying close enough that Hermione wouldn’t lose sight of their child. 

The mediwitch quickly delivered the placenta and magically patched up the tearing Hermione had sustained, the healing spells easing some of the residual pain. Severus looked down at his son, inspecting the little face that looked up at him with serious dark eyes. His heart ached and pounded in his chest as he considered the small, defenseless being he held, and love filled every part of his soul.

Before he knew it, he was curled up in their normal sized bed, next to Hermione. The young witch gently held their son while the boy nursed.

“You’re amazing,” Severus whispered to her, a massive smile on his face.

“He’s amazing,” Hermione answered, smiling down at the child in her arms, while she gently squeezed her husband’s hand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aright, sorry if it felt quite graphic.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. Brought up a lot of memories for me.
> 
> My son is now three but I remember the day he was born well. He was a 34 weeker and he was born at shift change, so it was just me, my husband, and two of every type of staff necessary: two doctors, two nurses, two pediatric nurses, two pediatric doctors, two anesthesiologist, two pediatric respitory therapists, etc. Then of course, I had two epidurals, but both failed and I still had a “natrual” birth, despite wanting the drugs. It was a day I’ll never forget for many reasons.


End file.
